


In Lovelier Colours

by mareyshelley



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood Play, F/M, Vampire AU, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2020-05-19 17:02:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19361044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mareyshelley/pseuds/mareyshelley
Summary: After rescuing the woman he loves from a near fatal car crash, Mr. Gold takes it upon himself to nurse her back to something resembling good health.Nominated for Best Horror in the 2020 TEAs.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Maplesyrup for being the best beta! Please take note of the tags on this fic. It's a vampire AU, there's gonna be blood and sex in future chapters.

Everyone was staring at them.

Gold had known when he’d gone to pick Belle up from the hospital that appearing in town together would only fuel the rumours about what had happened. But Belle had insisted she didn’t care. She was hungry, and after weeks of hospital food she wanted something that actually tasted of… well, anything.

The eyes on them as they entered Granny’s diner hadn’t seemed to bother her at first, but Gold could see her demeanour slowly change. Her shoulders dropped as they waited for Miss Lucas to return with her order, and her smile became pained.

Gossip was already beginning to spread, it seemed, and Belle could hear the whispers in the diner as clearly as Gold could.

At first, they’d said it was guilt. Moe French had crashed his truck, nearly killed his daughter, and it had driven him mad. He’d started to blame Mr. Gold for Belle’s scrape with death. He’d told everyone that Mr. Gold had attacked her.

But as they sat in that little booth together, the rumours started to take a different turn.

“Gold arranged the whole thing to get Moe away from Belle,” one of them muttered.

“He got into Belle’s head and had her send her own father away,” someone else suggested.

“No,” another disagreed. “Belle got into Gold’s bed and wallet, and Moe tried to help her.”

Gold sent Belle a tight smile, hoping she hadn’t heard everything they were saying, but his hope was soon dashed when the smile she returned didn’t meet her pale eyes. His hands tightened into fists beneath the table.

None of this was fair to her. None of it was true. Belle was far too good and beautiful for the likes of him. She was full of life and had a wonder about the world around her that he’d lost long ago. He hoped she’d never lose that.

“Here you go,” Miss Lucas said brightly, appearing at their side and setting a plate of pancakes in front of Belle. “Will you be alright here?”

Belle gave her friend the same unconvincing smile she’d given him, and barely met Miss Lucas’ eyes.

“Yes, thank you,” she said quietly. “I’m… I’ll be fine.”

Her friend looked less than convinced, and she glanced across at him as if he was the one keeping her from smiling. Gold frowned. It wasn’t solely his fault Belle’s father was an irrational idiot who’d put her life in danger. Gold just wanted to try and pick up the pieces as best as he could.

He supposed that’s what her friend wanted, in her own way. The wolfish girl had led them both to a booth at the very back of the diner, as far from prying eyes as they could be, but it didn’t stop people from trying to get a glimpse of Belle.

“Well,” Miss Lucas sighed, her focus back on Belle and firmly avoiding him. Which he was thankful for. “Let me know if you need anything. And I mean it,” she stressed. “ _Anything_.”

She left with a sway in her hips, off to serve the next customer, but Gold couldn’t relax just yet.

He watched as Belle covered the pancakes in as much syrup as her plate could hold. Granny’s cooking left a lot to be desired at the best of times, but he couldn’t imagine that much syrup improved the taste. She must have been hungry.

“You’re staring.”

Gold froze and realised he’d been staring at her mouth as she ate. He shook his head and met her eyes, about to apologise, but she smiled at him and reached across to cover his hand with hers.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” she said. “I know it’s not really your thing.”

“It’s nothing, Miss French.” he said gently, looking at their joined hands, and she hummed in response. She did that often when she didn’t believe him, or when she knew there was more he wasn’t telling her.

“I’m just not sure what you see in Granny’s,” he grabbed the menu and skimmed over it, “ _Jumbo Stack_ pancakes.”

She laughed and shook her head, taking her hand away. “It’s better than hospital food,” she pointed out, “and I’m starving.”

That wiped the smile from Gold’s face, but Belle was too busy cutting up another pancake to notice.

He tapped his nails on the table and looked around the diner, away from his beautiful, worrying companion. People quickly ducked their heads, back to their food and drinks, and Gold scowled at the lot of them. If they couldn’t politely keep their eyes away from Belle after she’d been through so much, then he’d just have to scare them into being nice to her.

“You can take me to your home soon,” she promised, dragging his attention back to her. Her smile was back, brightening her pallid face, and Gold nodded, happy to agree.

It still amazed him that she’d agree to stay with him at all. When Whale had informed him that she’d be better having someone to keep an eye on her for her first week or two out of the hospital, Gold had been sure the Lucas’ must have already offered her a room. But then he’d suggested his own home to Belle, and her whole face had lit up.

He didn’t know what he’d ever done to deserve her friendship, but he’d do it all over again if it meant she’d continue to smile at him like that. Even with a mouth full of syrup-drowned pancake she was wonderful.

While she enjoyed her disgusting food, Gold looked around the diner again. Many people had got the message by that point to stop looking at Belle, but a few hadn’t. Mr. Nottingham sat at the bar, watching her with one of those leering smiles that he no doubt thought was charming, and Gold filed his name away for later.

A few of her friends, the miner and the schoolteacher, had looked like they might want to approach her, but they thought twice when they saw her sitting with him. He hadn’t intentionally scared her friends away, the Lucas girl certainly wasn’t scared, but most of the town found him intimidating at the best of times. Apart from Belle, of course. She was far too friendly for her own good.

He called Miss Lucas over to order Belle another ice tea while she finished her pancakes. She’d need something to wash down all that sugar.

“Thank you,” she said, ducking her head sheepishly.

“It’s no matter,” he dismissed with a lazy wave of his hand. “I said I’d take care of you, and that’s what I intend to do.”

She smiled at him again and took a sip of her tea when Miss Lucas brought it to her. Then she dug back into her pancakes, and he wondered how anyone could ever find a bad word to say about her.

When she was finished, Belle ignored all the eyes on her as she stood up. Gold left some money and a tip on the table, out of sight of the other patrons, and she smiled at him gratefully. She let him slip her jacket on, and took his arm as he walked her out of the diner, but all the while, people were watching them.

She didn’t seem to care once they were outside. She waited, squinting against the late summer sun while he put on his sunglasses and opened up his umbrella. It was a bright day. He should have checked if she had any sunglasses before agreeing to take her out.

At least she didn’t mind when he offered her the shade of his umbrella. She’d given him such a curious look when she first saw him turn his cane up, and realised it was actually a long, black umbrella, but she hadn’t questioned it like most people did. She may be a curious little thing, but she wasn’t rude.

“Shall we?” he asked, offering her his arm.

* * *

Gold got the feeling Belle would have liked to look around his house before he bundled her upstairs. But she’d complained of feeling sick in his car, and had almost fainted as she walked up the drive. He wouldn’t risk showing her around the large Victorian until he knew she was able.

So he took her to his study, where she curled up with a book in his armchair and he was able to read through the ledgers and contracts he hadn’t had time to do that morning.

She wasn’t reading the book. He realised that maybe five or ten minutes into them sitting in silence. He’d just come to the end of that month’s rent, checking who had and hadn’t yet paid, when the leather chair creaked and he knew she must have moved.

He watched her from the corner of his eye, when she thought he was too busy to notice, and she kept peeking over the top of her book to steal glances at him. Gold couldn’t think why. He was sitting in the shadows of his office, in front of the heavy curtains covering an annoyingly large window, and working. It must have been a dark and dull sight, but she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off him.

Eventually, after he’d lost count of the number of times she’d looked his way, Gold set down his pen and looked back at her. Belle quickly dropped her eyes to her book, but they both knew she’d been caught.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“A little,” she admitted, putting her book aside. He was sure she hadn’t read any of it.

“Well, we can’t have that.” He smiled sharply and grabbed his umbrella-cane. “Shall we see what the housekeeper’s left for you, Miss French?”

“If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Nonsense,” he said, beckoning her to stand. “It’s no trouble at all.”

He made it to the study door before he realised he couldn’t hear the clicking of her heels. He’d enjoyed that sound whenever he’d visited the library and she’d followed him around the shelves, recommending all sorts of books to him. 

The silence was worrying, and he turned to see her bracing herself against the wall. Her face was pallid, entirely drained of warmth, and he rushed to her before she toppled over.

“I’m okay,” she muttered, laughing awkwardly at herself, but she sounded and looked anything but.

Gold looped his arm under hers and held her to his side. He thought she might protest, but she did nothing more than lean into him and rested her head against his shoulder. She was light and small, and he fancied he could detect a hint of roses in her hair.

He held her a little tighter.

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologise. Never apologise to me,” he said urgently, brushing her hair back from her face. “You’re still very weak. It's not your fault."

_It’s mine._

He pressed a hand to her forehead, feeling her temperature, and Belle tipped her head back to look at him. She was so cold, all the heat had left her, and it felt as though she'd crumple to the floor if he let her go.

“Can you stand?” he asked.

Belle nodded numbly and tried to push away from him. Her legs wobbled and she almost fell backwards, but his arm around her kept her upright and she gripped his shoulders.

“Why don’t you lie down?” Mr. Gold suggested, lifting her into his arms. “And I’ll bring you something to eat.”

Her head flopped against his shoulder and she didn’t answer, but she was still awake. Her cool breath licked at his throat, and he walked a little quicker than necessary to get her to her bed and out of his arms.

This was too much, too dangerous.

He carried her into the one room in the house that wasn’t red or dusty pink. He’d chosen the powder blue bedroom especially for Belle, and had the bed freshly made by his housekeeper. Blue was very much Belle’s colour. It suited her and matched her eyes, and it was the only bedroom with a bookcase. He’d had Dove pick up a selection of Belle’s private collection from her apartment above the library.

She would love it, Gold was sure of that, once she was more awake.

He lowered her onto the bed and pulled off her heels. Belle groaned and tried to sit up, but he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and told her to lie back. She did as he said without protest and he sat on the duvet beside her. She smiled at him sleepily and he brushed her hair from her face.

“I think I’ll try to sleep,” she said, her voice a little tired and broken. He tried not to flinch at how weak she was.

“Of course.” He nodded, tracing his finger down her soft cheek. “My room’s just next door,” he said gently as her eyes drifted shut. “Please don’t hesitate to knock if you need anything.”

Gold stayed in the house for more than an hour after Belle had fallen asleep, waiting and listening. He didn't want to leave her, but he had to if he wanted to be strong enough to keep her safe. That was all that mattered now.

It went dark before he decided that Belle definitely wasn't waking up any time soon, and he quietly slipped out of the house.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the comments on the first chapter, and thank you Maplesyrup for beta'ing this chapter!

It had been risky to go to the Rabbit Hole, and impulsive. He’d never been a reckless person before Belle had come into his life. Now, in just over a month, he’d taken one big risk after the other and almost exposed himself.

Gold had been seen, he had no doubt about that, and in the next few weeks he would have to be careful about what he said. No doubt he could expect a visit from the sheriff within a day or two.

But all that mattered now was Belle. He almost stumbled through the front door, and forgot to try and be quiet as he slammed it shut and slumped back against it.

He breathed heavily, trying to calm down, and dabbed at his face with his pocket square. He had others. It could easily be replaced.

“Mr. Gold?”

He straightened up.

“Belle?” he asked unsteadily.

He could only just see her through the darkness of the house. Her pale skin glowed in a beam of moonlight reaching in through the sitting room window, and he couldn’t help but stare. She was ethereal, in nothing but her little nightie and the blue blanket from her bed wrapped loosely around her shoulders.

She stepped forward and smiled.

“I was worried,” she said, turning on the lamp beside the sofa.

The sudden light hurt his eyes and he winced, hoping too late that Belle wouldn’t be able to tell where he’d been or what he’d done.

“Are you okay?” Her blanket rustled, and he opened his eyes to see her shuffling closer.

He reached out for her, worried that she might collapse, or worried that his panicked mind might have conjured up a ghost, and shook his head when his hands met her chilled, soft skin.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Gold whispered and pulled her to him. “You’re so cold.”

Belle shivered and circled her arms around his waist, under his overcoat. He’d half-expected her to take in his dishevelled appearance and push him away. He hadn’t expected her to return his embrace, and he relaxed against her, combing his fingers through her hair.

“You shouldn’t be down here,” he soothed.

She looked up at him, from where she’d pressed her face into his chest, and frowned.

“What were you doing?”

“What were _you_ doing?” he repeated, and Belle pressed her lips together.

“I heard you leave,” she answered, resting her cheek back on his chest.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t.”

Gold didn’t know how to answer, he just kept stroking her hair and holding her tight. He’d been sure she was asleep when he’d left. That was another reckless mistake. He should have been more careful. He should have made sure she was asleep and safe and comfortable before he left. Not awake and worried and alone.

He didn’t want to leave her side again. He wanted to take her to bed, wrap her blanket around the both of them, and hold her close for the rest of the night. But that wasn’t an option. They were only friends, and she wouldn’t want him anywhere near her bed.

“I couldn’t sleep, either,” he said, distracting himself. “I thought a walk might help.”

“We could have gone together,” she muttered, and she almost sounded disappointed that he hadn’t thought of that. He had, but she couldn’t go with him. She couldn’t see what he had to do.

He hooked his finger under her chin and gently tipped her head back to see her face.

“Perhaps one day we will,” he promised.

“I’d like that,” she agreed, smiling. “But we’d have to go on a clear night. Not like tonight.”

He frowned and took his hand away. “Why?”

“To see the stars,” Belle said brightly, all of her disappointment draining away. “And the moon. Isn’t that why anyone walks at night?”

He hadn’t thought of it like that. He went out most nights, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a moment to just look at the sky and appreciate the darkness. It was just one of many things that passed him by and had lost its appeal with age.

Of course Belle saw things differently, she always did.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” he allowed.

“I am,” she teased. “You can’t clear your head on a cloudy night.”

“I should have asked you to come with me,” he said, and he wished he could. “I’m sure you’d have found beauty even in the clouds.”

The night was still young. If he’d been a braver man and less of a fool, he could have offered to take her for a walk. Cloudy or not, she’d have found something new about walking at night that he’d learnt to take for granted.

But he couldn’t, and he made himself let go of her.

“Let’s get you back to bed, sweetheart.”

* * *

Sleep didn’t come easy to him, but then it never had.

After a fitful rest, Gold got out of bed and readied himself for the day just as the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon. It wasn’t that he had a busy day, he’d already decided that the shop could survive being closed for a day or two, but he’d never been one for lounging in bed when other work could be done.

What did he have to stay in bed for?

Shortly after dressing, and a word with his housekeeper, Mrs.Crane, about not waking Belle early, the peace and quiet of his house was disturbed by a knock at the door.

Few people dared to visit him, and he should have known before peeking through the window that it would be one of Belle’s friends. They all had a sudden desire to be her knights in shining armour, as if he was some sort of dragon hoarding her away. None of them believed that she wanted to stay with her dragon.

He sent Mrs. Crane out to deal with the miner. He was the short, angry type, but Mrs. Crane was no nonsense and quickly sent the man on his way.

Back in Gold’s day it was considered rude to make calls in the morning, but then the miner _was_ rude. Who would dare to turn up at a man’s home, uninvited, to accuse him of such nefarious things?

Belle was safe. Their relationship was purely platonic, he was doing his best to take care of her, and they would all just have to take his word for it.

“Thank you, Mrs. Crane,” he said when she came back inside. “I fear he won't be the last today.”

“Then I’ll tell them what I told him.”

“And what is that?”

“Miss French is being taken care of nicely and he’s trespassing.”

Gold smiled, pleased, and nodded. It was that attitude, from such a tiny, older woman, that had made him offer her the job of housekeeper.

“I’ll be in my study if that doesn’t work,” he said.

Not one to mince words, Mrs. Crane left him to go and clean up in the kitchen, and Gold made his way upstairs.

He was careful to tread lightly as he neared Belle’s room, and didn’t use his cane as he was wont to do. He didn’t really need it, he hadn’t in a long time, but the habit of using one had never left him. Using an umbrella was probably the cause of that. He’d replaced his real cane with it about a decade or so before.

Belle had once commented that she always knew he was in the library just from the tapping he made as he walked. He wouldn’t do that now. He wouldn’t wake her when she was finally getting some rest. But Belle, it seemed, hadn’t yet mastered the art of stealth.

A little under an hour after he’d sat down to work, Gold heard her sneaking out of her room and slowly making her way down the stairs. It was around noon by that point, and he knew she must have been hungry.

He left his study, silently, to follow her downstairs. Mrs. Crane would still be around and he didn’t want to leave Belle alone with her.

He found her dragging her hand over the furniture in his sitting room as she walked. It made him want to reach out to her, to hold her and keep her from falling, but he held back.

He waited just outside the open doorway, and watched her as she inspected his shelves of curiosities. It had once been a simple bookcase, but over the years his collection of oddities had grown and his books had been moved to his study.

Belle’s fingertips drifted over an ornate silver box, an hourglass collecting dust, and a glass bottle with a note trapped inside. She didn’t pick any of them up, for which he was glad, and her browsing quickly led her passed the kris dagger and pinned butterflies, to the wall where all of his old, fading photographs hung. There was only one photograph set apart from the rest of them. In a simple brass frame, sitting in the centre of the mantelpiece, there was a picture of a young boy.

The others were all of people, too. Victorian men stared at the camera, Edwardian women looked off into the distance, and boys and girls of all ages posed in their best dresses. Gold wondered if she’d notice what the pictures were.

Belle looked closer at some of them; from the soldier, the family of eight, to the couple in their finest clothes. He knew the one she was looking at. It was the one where the woman's face was blurred. She'd moved as the photograph was taken, but her companion was in clear focus. They'd managed to stay perfectly still.

"Post-mortem photography," he told her.

Belle jumped and turned around like she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t, and he had to try very hard not to smile.

"These people are dead?" she asked.

"Some of them, yes. I imagine they all are now."

With the deliberate tap of his cane, he stepped around her and ran his fingertips over the edges of the frames.

"Why?"

"Why do I have them, or why were they taken?"

"Both."

"Should they be thrown away and forgotten?" he asked gently, lifting one of the pictures from the wall. It helped to distract him from looking at the lone photograph of the boy. "The people who had these taken wanted their loved one to be remembered." He lightly traced his nails over the boy’s face, and tilted the frame for her to see the sleeping child. "Memories fade, you see. But a photograph never does, if it's taken care of."

"Doesn't it scare you, having them up like this?"

"They were only people. We have as little need to fear the dead as we do the living, Miss French." Gold carefully put the frame back up. "Are you hungry?"

“I was,” she said, and he chuckled despite himself. “Only you could think about food now, Ephraim.”

He froze at that name, and turned to find Belle pressing her lips together, trying not to smile

Oh, she was a cheeky thing.

“You know my name?”

“It’s on your library card.”

He'd never thought to freely offer his name. It felt very familiar, having an unmarried woman using his first name, but times had changed and now everyone used first names whether they were close to that person or not. He’d made sure no one knew anything but his surname.

“How long have we been friends?” Belle asked when he only stared blankly at the pictures on the wall.

Gold shrugged. He couldn’t see why that would matter when it felt like he’d always known her, however impossible that was. But then he looked at her, and the expectant little smile on her face, and realised she wanted an actual answer.

“It’s hard to say,” he answered.

“Nearly a year,” Belle said, raising an eyebrow. “And last night you used my name for the first time.”

Her bright eyes had his unease giving way to a soft smile and an even softer reply of, “Oh?”

“Mhm.”

“And you want to use mine?”

“Only if you’re okay with it. I know you don’t let other people use it, but I thought maybe you’d make an exception. For me.”

“For you?” Gold leaned forward, and Belle leaned in to meet him, eager for his answer. He grinned. “I think I could make an exception, Belle.”

She grinned back at him and ducked her head. He was glad. He didn’t want her to see the soppy, foolish smile she’d put on his own face.

“I, ah...” He cleared his throat. “I asked if you were hungry.”

Belle nodded, still smiling. “You did.”

He called for Mrs. Crane before he could do or say anything else to embarrass himself, and had her prepare Belle something to eat while he led her into the dining room. He pulled out the chair at the head of the long table for her, and she sat in it with a smile of thanks.

He would have left, but she took his wrist and nudged out the chair beside her with her foot. Gold hesitated, he wouldn’t be eating with her, but the hopeful glint in her eyes had him sitting down before he could think long enough to excuse himself.

“Aren’t you working today?” Belle asked as he pulled the chair in.

“No. No, I thought I’d spend the day here with you.”

“And you let me sleep in?”

He fixed the front of his suit, studiously ignoring the way she tilted her head and watched him.

“Well, you stayed up last night waiting for me, it was…” He frowned. “It seemed rude to wake you.”

She laughed, actually laughed, but he didn’t get the feeling she was laughing _at_ him. He narrowed his eyes at her and she looked down.

“What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing,” Belle said, with a very unconvincing shrug.

He reached out to take her hand, to make her look at him, but a knock at the door did it for him. She looked up, frowning, and he was about to excuse himself but Mrs. Crane beat him to the door.

Belle took his hand and squeezed it before he could pull away, and for one, blissful moment, he focused on her soft hand around his instead of the charged voices coming from the hall.

Her grip on him tightened when the voices got louder, and the angry, gruff tone of her miner friend reached them.

“Don’t listen to him, Ephraim,” Belle whispered, reaching for his other hand. He wondered if she realised she was holding him with a strength that would have hurt anyone else. She didn’t look like she wanted to hurt him. Through the dark anger that had settled in her pretty eyes, she looked like she wanted to comfort him. Or possibly protect him.

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” she promised.

“Oh, Belle. No--”

“I mean it!” Her hands tightened, her nails bit into his palms, and he could do nothing but stare at her. She was wonderfully fierce, but it was a painful reminder that he was running out of time. “No one else would do for me what you’ve done.”

_That was unsettlingly true._

“Tell Gold he won’t get away with this!”

The front door slammed shut, and Mrs. Crane appeared in the dining room a moment later.

“They left a message,” she said.

“Yes, thank you. There’s nothing wrong with my hearing, Mrs. Crane.”

Belle released him and clasped her hands in her lap. His palms tingled, and he flexed the feeling back into his fingers. Mrs. Crane looked between them, rolled her eyes, and left again.

“I’m sorry,” Belle said, quieter and calmer than before. “I don’t--”

“Think nothing of it, sweetheart.” He smiled at her and she shyly smiled back. “None of this is your fault.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens with more unwanted visitors for Gold. As always, Maplesyrup is amazing and the best beta.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” Gold said without looking up from his work. “I don’t know the names of everyone in this town.”

“Mr. Nottingham,” Graham repeated, and put a mugshot down over Gold’s ledger. “His friends said they saw you near the Rabbit Hole two nights ago. The night Keith went missing.”

With tested patience, he put his pen down and lifted the shot of Nottingham, no doubt from one of the many times he’d been arrested for public intoxication.

“I don’t see how,” he said, bored, and put the picture back down. “I never go near the place.”

Graham nodded, as if he’d already doubted the legitimacy of the eyewitness. He had no problem believing that Gold would never set foot near that awful club, even though he had.

“You’re sure you haven’t see him?” Graham asked, but he was already putting away the image and closing his notebook.

“We don’t exactly walk in the same circles, Sheriff.”

With a sigh, Sheriff Humbert slipped the little notebook back into his pocket and nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Gold.”

Gold inclined his head as Graham turned to leave. “Of course.”

There were times when he felt guilt, or the ghost of it, over the things he did, but this wasn’t one of them. He had no qualms about lying to the sheriff, and Nottingham would be no loss to anyone. Especially not to himself or Belle.

Everyone had watched them together in the diner, when Belle was first out of the hospital, but Nottingham hadn’t just watched. He’d tried to drink her in, like he had any right to appreciate her beauty.

No, his death wasn’t a loss at all.

The bell above his door tinkled again as someone else stepped inside, stopping him from retreating into the backroom, and Gold wondered which of Storybrooke’s lovely residents was going to accuse him of something untoward this time.

He should start taking appointments.

“I hope you’re not in any trouble, Gold.”

He sighed and dropped the curtain. Of all the people to visit him, it had to be the one person besides the sheriff that he couldn’t just shoo away.

“Regina,” he said, turning on his heel to face her. “What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if we could have a quick chat.”

She stepped further into his shop, uninvited, and Gold stepped to the side to put the front counter between them. She placed her hands flat on the glass, and he frowned. He’d have to polish that again when she left.

“It’s quite a delicate matter,” she added when he said nothing.

“Oh?”

“I’ve heard some... rumours, about you and our lovely librarian.”

 _Of course_ she had. Everyone had.

“That’s the mayor’s business now, is it?”

“It is after her miraculous recovery, and now she’s spending all of her time--” She waved her hand at him, more flustered than angry. “With _you_. In your home.”

“With me?” he mocked.

“You know what I mean.”

“She is staying in my home because she is _sick_ , madam mayor,” he reminded. “A simple concept. I’ll give you a moment to think about it.”

Regina looked him up and down critically, and didn’t look at all impressed with what she found. She twisted her perfectly coloured red lips and frowned at him.

“So there’s really nothing to worry about?” she asked carefully.

“Nothing at all.”

She didn’t look convinced, but they both knew she wouldn’t get more out of him than that. He’d known Regina her entire life, thanks to a brief dalliance with her mother. Cora was long gone, but that mistake of a relationship meant that Storybrooke’s canny mayor knew his secret. He couldn’t blame her for not trusting him.

“Well, I hope that’s true,” Regina said. “For her sake. I know how this life can change a person.”

Slipping on her no doubt designer sunglasses, Regina turned and marched out of his shop without another word.

She was another problem he had to be careful of now, apparently. Looking after Belle under the watchful eye of her friends, who just thought he was an awful old man, was bad enough. It wouldn’t take long for Regina to work out what he’d done.

* * *

He left for home much later than he would have liked. It was beginning to grow dark by the time he reached the old Victorian, and a light was on downstairs. Belle would hopefully forgive him. He’d left plenty of food for her to tide her over until he could work up the courage to tell her the truth.

In the meantime, he had to keep a close eye on her, and staying late at work was a risk he shouldn’t have taken. He wouldn’t do that again.

Inside was mostly dark, with only the little lamp in the sitting room to light his way. Gold called out but there was no response, and he could tell as he walked through the sitting room that he was alone. Belle wasn’t in the house. Everything was too still and too quiet. He straightened the picture of the boy on the mantelpiece as he walked into the kitchen.

If his heart could race, it no doubt would have worn itself out with worry at the thought of Belle being left unsupervised somewhere in the town. But then he noticed something on the kitchen floor; a spatula. It wasn’t like Mrs. Crane to leave anything out of place.

Rounding the counter, he found all of the utensils thrown from the drawer, silver knives and forks with bone handles scattered across the floor. The phone was among them, pulled from its old cord, and Gold frowned.

Her temper wasn’t something he’d counted on when he’d invited her into his home, but he should have expected to see a change in her personality. He just hadn’t expected the caring, friendly, small librarian to turn so… angry.

A cool breeze tickled the hair at the back of his neck, pulling his attention from the mess to the french doors. They were open, just a crack, but it was enough to let Gold know where Belle was.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he deliberately tapped his umbrella along the kitchen floor and stepped outside, so she’d hear him approaching. And there she was. She sat on the top step of the decking, looking out into the garden. He hired a gardener, and in the summer the garden was filled with colours and all kinds of scents, but autumn was quickly approaching. Some of the greens had already turned orange, the soft leaves had crisped, and the flowers were losing their vibrancy.

He tried to resist making a romantic comparison between them and Belle. She wasn’t losing her vibrancy. She wouldn’t ever weather like the flowers.

“Belle,” he greeted lightly. “What happened in the kitchen?”

Belle turned to him with a faint frown and a spoon hanging out of her mouth. He’d worried that maybe none of the food he’d left had been appealing to her, but the tub of ice cream hugged to her chest proved that wasn’t the case. 

“Oh!” she said, when she realised what he meant. “I was going to clean up before you got home. I’m so sorry.”

She started to get up but Gold waved a hand for her to stay where she was. Her mood seemed amiable enough for the moment, and if she was content to sit and eat ice cream then he wouldn’t disturb her.

“Ruby called,” she explained, sitting back on the step.

“I would have thought that was a good thing.”

“It was, it _is_ , but she kept worrying and saying things about--” She looked down at her ice cream guiltily. “She wasn’t listening.”

“And you were hungry?”

Belle nodded and Gold sighed. This was entirely his fault. If he could just bring himself to admit the truth, he could fix Belle’s suddenly short temper. She’d be back to her old self again, but she’d also hate him and he wasn’t sure he could face that just yet. He wasn’t ready to see the way she looked at him change; to see her bright, loving smile turn bitter and hateful.

“Is the ice cream helping?” he asked, taking a seat beside her.

She nodded and scooted closer to him, so their thighs touched, but she didn’t seem to notice or mind the contact and he didn’t pull away.

“A little,” she said sadly, still looking down into the half-eaten tub.

They sat quietly while she poked at the ice cream with her spoon and took the occasional bite. Her waitress friend must have said something that was playing on her mind, but Gold didn’t quite know how to ask her about it. Would she want to tell him? It could be personal, or simply too upsetting to say out loud.

Before he could make a decision, Belle froze and dropped her spoon. She didn’t make a sound, but her hand covered her mouth and he knew before asking what she’d done.

“Let me see?” he said softly. He thought she wouldn’t let him, there was a moment of hesitation, but she slowly lowered her hand and he saw it. A little drop of blood gathered at the corner of her lips and he sighed. She’d bitten herself.

Gold wiped the blood away with his thumb and her lips parted in a gasp. Even in the dim light, he caught the glint of something white and sharp.

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

She pushed her lips together and shook her head, but he didn’t believe her. He’d bitten himself more than once, to his embarrassment, and he knew for a fact that it _hurt_. But she hid the hurt in her watering eyes by looking down, back at her tub, and he took the opportunity to surreptitiously lick the blood from his thumb.

“Would you like some?” she offered, and Gold quickly dropped his hand before she looked back up.

She offered him a scoop of pink ice cream from her spoon, and he couldn’t refuse her. He didn’t particularly care for human food, and he’d never understood the fad for ice cream, but none of that mattered. Belle was watching him, waiting for him to accept, and he held her gaze as he leaned forward and took the spoon into his mouth. It washed away the sweet tang of her blood, but in that moment he didn’t care because her eyes were on him and she was waiting for his response.

He swallowed the mouthful of ice cream without tasting it and leaned back, licking his lips. Belle copied him and smiled.

“Do you like it?”

Gold didn’t even know what flavour it was, but he was so captivated by her smile and the fact she’d been willing to share her spoon with him, that he just nodded and smiled like a fool when she grinned at him.

“Good,” she said brightly, using the same spoon to scoop out a mouthful for herself. She didn’t hesitate before putting it into her mouth and licking it clean. “Do you have a favourite flavour?”

He should have said _no_ , but he found himself saying, “This one,” instead.

“I should have known,” Belle said, with the sort of smile that suggested she had a secret. “You have good taste.”

“As do you.”

She gave him a fond smile, her eyes crinkled, like she didn’t quite believe him but she’d let him pay her the compliment.

“I bought a book on ice cream making once. I thought I might try it,” Belle said between licks of her spoon.

“And did you?”

She shook her head and shrugged. “No. I don’t know what happened, I just...”

“What?”

“I didn’t think I’d be very good at it. It’s silly, really.”

“You’re right,” he sighed, ducking back as she playfully swatted at him with her spoon.

“Thanks,” she said indignantly, but her eyes danced with laughter and he smiled in return.

“Things take time and practice. You may be a natural, but most things still take work.”

Humming around a mouthful of ice cream, Belle nodded and set her tub down. She swallowed, and he watched her neck as she turned to him.

“That’s a very serious way to think about ice cream making,” she teased.

“Is it?”

“It shouldn’t really be about being _good_. We should want to do things just for the fun of doing them,” she said with a wistful little smile.

“What do you do for fun?”

“Usually I just read, or I’ll try baking. I listen to music,” she listed off on her fingers, “and sometimes I dance to it.”

It felt like she was giving him a list of secrets, not a list of everyday things she enjoyed doing. He waited for her to say more, but she didn’t, she just looked up at him as if she was waiting for something.

“And you?” she prompted lightly.

“Me?”

“What do you do for fun?”

They stared at one another. Belle’s smile was bright and open as she eagerly awaited his answer, but Gold just stared at her blankly. Silent. He had no idea what to say. He had one purpose, and although a part of him enjoyed it, he didn’t do it for fun. He did it out of necessity.

Belle bit her lip when a silence stretched out between them and she realised he wasn’t going to say anything.

She leaned back, and he thought he was losing her, but then she brightened up again and pointed at him.

“You like to collect things,” she said, as if he’d forgotten. “You don’t do that to be good at it.”

“But I am good at it.”

“You’re good at knowing what will sell,” she corrected. “But all those things inside, you don’t collect them to sell. You collect them because you like them.” She smiled like she’d won something, and he clung on to her every word. “You do it for fun.”

Did he? He supposed he did, but he wouldn’t admit that she might be right, and the longer he took to reply, the more amused and triumphant she looked.

Gold huffed and shook his head.

“You have an odd way of looking at the world.”

Dipping her head, Belle smoothed down her skirt and hid her face behind her long hair, but he’d caught her shy, dimpled smile. He took her hand, hoping she’d look back at him, and gave her a lopsided smile when she did.

“Let’s go back inside.”


	4. Chapter 4

He had to tell her. She’d been in his house for over a week, and in that time he could see her slowly changing.

Her temper was the main problem. Three nights ago he’d come downstairs to find her snapping at Mrs. Crane for not having dinner ready ‘on time.’ He’d distracted her with a first edition of Wuthering Heights and she’d sat with him in his study until dinner was ready.

He had hoped he could put it off, but he knew there was no way he could get out of telling her. She _had_ to know, and she had to know before she snapped and did something she’d never forgive herself for. There was no point in both of them feeling guilty for something that was his fault.

It was the morning after she’d thrown a cup across the kitchen because she couldn’t find anything to eat, and Gold had offered to take her to the shop. She’d readily agreed, with that beautiful, bright smile he loved so much. He wouldn’t fool himself into thinking that smile was for him. He knew she was just happy to get out of his house.

“It’s a lovely morning,” Belle said, in a rare moment of calm. She never directed her anger at him, for which he was grateful. She seemed to save her ire for everyone else.

They walked arm-in-arm, with his umbrella held over their heads. Belle hadn’t said anything about him carrying it around, and she hadn’t protested when he’d offered her a pair of sunglasses. It was a sunny day, and the cat eye shape looked perfectly sleek and stylish over her blue eyes. That was one of the many things he liked, _loved_ , about her. She always dressed so well, in her short skirts, lace dresses and colourful high heels. So few people made an effort with their appearance anymore, but Belle always did and she had such an effortless elegance to go with it.

She caught him staring at her and he looked away, to the front of his shop down the street.

“It’s very bright,” he commented, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with her.

Belle smirked a little too knowingly. “Why do you think it’s a lovely morning?”

Gold looked around, but couldn’t see anything special about it. Storybrooke was a very repetitive little town. The only day that varied from the rest was Sundays, when most shops were closed and Granny’s only opened for lunch. Everything else stayed the same. Belle’s waitress friend put out the open sign for the diner, the therapist walked by with his dog, and Mr. Gold walked down the same path he did every day to his shop.

Maybe there was one difference.

“You’re with me?”

That made her smile even brighter, and she looked away from him quickly. He wished her sunglasses weren’t so dark. He could just imagine the way her eyes must have sparkled with such a radiant smile on her face.

“Good answer,” she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “It’s a perfect morning for a walk. It’s sunny, but not too hot, and I get to see the back of your shop.” She looked back at him with a serious frown, but she’d always been terrible at hiding her smiles. “A rare honour.”

“Ah.” He said sagely, trying to match her cool tone. “It is, and you’re not to touch anything. I don’t want all your little fingerprints on my best silver.”

She pressed her lips together, presumably trying not to laugh.

Falling in love with her had been easy. She made him see things he'd grown tired of with fresh eyes, in the same way a song could bring back a memory long forgotten, and he wondered how he could have ever let that memory slip away. She was so full of life and endless curiosity for the world around her, that she made him want to remember what that was like; to feel it with her.

“They’re looking at us,” Belle said, throwing cold water over the warm glow she’d built in his chest.

He looked up to see Leroy and his friends walking by the library, towards Granny’s, and sure enough they were all casting suspicious glances their way.

Gold did no more than frown at them. They weren’t worth his time when he’d have Belle all to himself in just a short, few moments. Surely no one would come to his shop to yell at him about taking her in when she was right there by his side.

But then Belle slipped her arm free of his and marched across the road. He hurried after her, and she was surprisingly fast in her heels, but he reached her and looped his arm around her waist before she could do… well, whatever it was she was going to do. Leroy and his friends carried on down the street, blissfully unaware that he’d just saved them.

She was fast. A lot faster than he’d expected her to be. He looked at her as she struggled in his grasp, amazed at the new revelation. Becoming like him may not have enhanced Belle’s strength, but it had given her a speed that could surprise even him.

“Let go!” Belle hissed, wriggling against him. “They need to be told, Ephraim. You haven’t done anything wrong!”

He almost let go of her out of sheer shock - of course he’d done something wrong - but he didn’t. She was younger than him, and it was easy to hold her still with his arm around her middle until she calmed down.

“It’s not worth it,” he said gently, kissing the side of her head when she leaned against him. “They won’t listen. People like that never do.”

She heaved a sigh and all of the tension left her.

“You’re right.”

Leroy glanced back and looked scandalised by what he found. Gold hastily took his arm from around Belle and had to trust that she wouldn’t try to lunge at anyone.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t notice Leroy storming towards them. “Let’s go to the shop.”

Belle, who was too busy looking at him to notice Leroy, nodded and followed.

“When do you have lunch?” she asked as he ushered her across the street, with his hand on the small of her back just in case.

“Whenever you like,” he said, struggling with the shop keys and his umbrella. She took it from him without a word, just a sweet smile, and held it over both of them as he unlocked the front door.

“Gold!” Leroy shouted.

He hurried Belle inside and slammed the door shut. The little bell above it tinkled unhappily and he slumped back.

"I can't believe Leroy," she grumbled. "He's usually so nice."

"He's worried about you," Gold tried to reason, taking the umbrella from her. The last thing she needed was a weapon.

He folded it and leaned against it, regaining some of his composure. Leroy had been smart enough not to follow them into the shop, but he had no doubt he’d have something to say if they ran into one another again.

“I’m sorry,” Belle said quietly, taking off her sunglasses.

“Don’t,” he said. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

With her head bowed, Belle chewed her lip and he winced. She was likely to bite herself again if she kept up that habit. That was it. He had to tell her.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

“I do,” he whispered, so quietly that he almost hoped she wouldn’t hear him. But she did, of course. She looked up at him with a confused little frown and stepped forward.

“You do?”

Gold swallowed and straightened up, leaning on his umbrella like a cane.

“Not here,” he said.

Belle nodded, because for some reason she still trusted him, and he turned to lock the front door as she disappeared behind the curtain. When he joined her she was stood in the middle of the room, looking over his workbench and shelves and sideboards filled with all the things he needed to mend or clean. She turned to him when she heard the tap of his cane, and the look she gave him made him pause.

Her sharp mind was always working, always asking questions and yearning to learn more. It was one of the things that had lured him to her, when the library had first opened and he’d been curious to see the new librarian. She'd held a sweet curiosity, but now he couldn’t be certain that the twinkle in her eye was her thirst for knowledge, or a thirst for something else.

“What is it?” she asked.

Biding his time, Gold propped his cane against the workbench, and swept an arm towards the little cot in the corner of the room. She eyed it, growing suspicious, but she still trusted him enough to take a seat.

That wouldn’t last for much longer.

“You’re worrying me,” she said when he couldn’t say anything at all. “Did Whale tell you something?”

“No,” he made himself say. “No, no. He doesn’t know.”

“Then what is it?”

He should have thought this through. He’d had weeks since Belle’s accident to prepare what he was going to say to her, and instead he’d been focusing on how to keep her safe and _not_ tell her.

Gold took a deep breath.

“I was there when you crashed.” That was a start, it was definitely a start, but the look of utter shock on her face didn’t assure him that it was a good start. “Your father was trying to get you away from… From me.”

She stood up. “He told everyone you attacked me.”

“I was only trying to show you the truth.”

A war of emotions flashed across her face; confusion, hurt, anger. He wasn’t sure which were aimed at him, but he stayed quiet as he watched her brain working, trying to make sense of it all.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “My father saw you,” she frowned, “trying to show me something?”

Gold nodded.

“Then why would he say you attacked me?”

“He didn’t like what he saw.”

“Did I?”

He stalled. He hadn’t expected that question, and he hadn’t really thought about it. Everything had happened so fast, between him showing Belle his fangs, to her father walking in and hauling her away into his truck.

 _Had_ she been just as terrified as Moe?

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

Belle nodded, but he wasn’t convinced she fully understood. She twisted her lips in thought and looked around the room, as if the answer to their problems was hidden among his collection of china and broken clocks.

“Will you show me now?”

Now he had another dilemma. He’d had a whole speech prepared when he’d visited her in the library to tell her the truth. He wanted it to be in the brightest, and least-threatening place as possible. His shop was his territory, which wasn’t ideal, but he could still try to put her at ease.

He nodded and sat down on the cot, and quietly waited for her to join him. She did, but she was hesitant and left a gap between them.

Fussing at the front of his suit, he tried to straighten his already straight tie, until Belle put her hand on his leg and smiled. She still trusted him, even now, and that made everything worse.

There was nothing for it. He had to show her.

“I don’t want you to be afraid,” he began, and stuttered when she squeezed his thigh. “I, um… I won’t hurt you. I couldn’t hurt you.”

“I know.”

Gold closed his head and turned his body to face her. He didn’t want to see the look on her face, whether it was fear or disgust or confusion. He’d rather not know.

Two sharp points dug into his lower lip, and he opened his mouth.

Belle jumped to her feet and Gold’s shoulders sagged. That was it, then. He opened his eyes, but he kept them cast down to the ground.

“You must have known,” he said, just to break the silence. “Broken bones. Punctured lungs. No one could have survived that.”

“You’re a...”

“I’m sorry, Belle.”

“But you saved me?”

“I wanted to tell you. I-- What?” He looked at her in sheer disbelief, and she stared back at him, unflinching.

“You made me like you to save me.”

Gold closed his mouth, hiding his fangs and his shock.

“Yes,” he answered.

Belle nodded slowly and worried her hands together. Again she glanced around the room, and he wondered if she was trying to decide if he was somehow faking the whole thing, or if she belonged in the mental hospital with her father.

Eventually, she slowly sat down beside him and picked at the hem of her dress. 

“What’s happening to me?”

“You’re hungry.” He broke the news as gently as he could, but her shoulders tensed and her hands stilled. He put his hand lightly over hers, and was thankful when she didn’t push him away.

“I can help you,” he added.

She didn’t answer, but she moved closer to him and he knew that at least she was listening. That was more than he deserved.

“How?” she asked quietly. Her voice was even fainter than it had been before, now that she was calmer and reality was seeping in. She sounded small and scared, and he hated himself.

“I can help you feed.”

She shook her head, hiding her face behind her long hair. “I can’t.”

“There are ways around it. You wouldn’t have to…” Gold hesitated. “No one would be hurt.”

Belle glanced towards the door, and he thought with a sinking heart that she was going to leave, but then she turned to look at him and lifted her chin.

“How?” she asked.

Gold smiled. “I’ll show you.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter marks the start of the reason for the tags on this fic. There's blood.

She’d held his hand while he explained what they could try.

He hadn’t expected any of this. Nervous energy radiated from her, and her eyes were dulled by sadness, but she listened. She held his hand and she listened, and that was more than he had ever hoped he’d get from her once she knew the truth.

She looked at him, only just able to meet his eyes, and he didn’t think he’d ever get used to how different she was. Her already pale eyes had grown paler since he'd changed her. Now they were a light, almost white blue. His eyes had once been so dark they were almost black in certain lights, but the brown had lightened a long time ago. They were now almost amber and barely human.

“There’s no other way?” she asked, but she already sounded resigned. She barely reacted to the answering shake of his head, other than to nod in return.

“I can’t apologise enough,” he repeated. “I acted in haste. I should have stopped to think if this was what you would want.”

“Don’t,” Belle said, squeezing his hand. “You did it to save me. Please don’t apologise for that.”

Gold didn’t know what else to do if he couldn’t apologise to her. There was only one thing left to do; something that should have been done weeks ago when she’d first woken up in the hospital.

He took his hand from hers and shrugged off his blazer. She didn’t protest at the lost contact, but after he’d rolled up his sleeve and offered her his hand again she quickly took it into her own.

“Are you sure?”

“You’ll feel better,” he promised.

“No, I meant,” she licked her lips, “are you sure about letting me do this?”

Why did she have to be so compassionate? Could she really not see that he didn’t deserve it?

He tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled sadly, nodding.

“I’m sure.”

Belle smiled back, trembling but determined, and looked down at his hand in hers.

She traced her finger over the veins threading through his wrist, and followed the deep lines in his palm until she came to his nails. They were long and sharp, and she turned her hand over to compare them to her own. It was just another little detail that proved they were the same now.

“Try to aim for here,” he instructed softly, pointing with his index and middle fingers to two spots over his forearm. “Not the wrist itself.” Belle looked at him questioningly and he smiled. “You don’t want to crack your new teeth on a bone.”

His attempt at humour earned him a small quirk of her lips, just enough to break through her nerves, and she brought his arm up to her face. Her eyes kept flicking across to meet his, and he smiled and nodded encouragingly. It didn’t even hurt when she finally sank her teeth into him. It was just a relief. Weeks-worth of tension drained from him as she sucked on the bite, drinking her fill, and pulled a groan from his lips.

She opened her eyes to look at him, and there was something surprisingly erotic about her watching him while she drank his blood. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her lips plump and pink against his pale skin, and the need to feel those lips over other places surged through him, mixing with the blood she was still drawing from his arm.

“Belle,” he moaned, and the sound of her name desperately escaping him lit something in her eyes.

She pulled away with a hiss, her lips glistening red, and they stared at one another. Neither of them could quite believe what had happened, but she didn’t try to get away, and he wanted to pull her closer.

She was magnificent. All tiny, pent up rage with sharp little fangs and a hunger in her bright blue eyes. He wanted her, and he realised she wanted him.

They lunged forward in a clash of bloodied lips and fangs, and she managed to pull him off the cot onto the floor. He went willingly, happy to do whatever she wanted as long as he could keep kissing her.

Pushing him onto his back, Belle straddled his hips and pinned him down. His instincts told him to fight and push her off, but she was a vampire like him, and her cold hands on his shoulders calmed the angry predator inside him. He relaxed underneath her and wrapped his arms - one of them throbbing where she’d bitten him - around her waist.

But then she pulled away, ending their coppery kiss, and gasped for breath. He was too dazed to do anything more than watch her parted lips as she breathed, and her throat bob as she swallowed down her nerves.

“Why?” she asked, and he blinked.

“Why?”

“Why did you do it?” she clarified, and he realised she wasn’t asking at all. She was begging to know the answer, gripping his shoulders with such force that she seemed to fear he might try and run away.

Gold licked his lips and tasted his own blood on them.

“I couldn’t lose you,” he admitted quietly.

“ _Why_?”

His hands traced up her sides, and Belle trembled against him. She was holding back, waiting for his answer, but he couldn’t quite make himself say the words. He cupped her cheek, stroking it with his thumb, and she leaned into his touch.

“Please,” she said.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Her mouth covered his before he had chance to regret his admission. She kissed him and bit him, and pulled wildly at the buttons of his waistcoat, but another worry struck him. It ran cold through his veins until he couldn’t ignore it anymore and had to stop her. He stilled her hands with his own and shook his head, ending her eager kisses.

“I didn’t turn you for this,” he said. “You don’t have to do--”

“I want to,” Belle interrupted, pulling her hands free. “Please, Ephraim. I want to.”

Any more protests he had died on the tip of his tongue as she licked the blood from his lips and pushed open his waistcoat.

She worked with fast, keen hands to remove his tie and started unbuttoning his shirt before his brain caught up and he started undressing her in return. His mind was bombarded with one sense after another; the smell of her rose perfume, the softness of her hands as she gripped him and pulled at his clothes, and the sweet sigh that escaped her when she could finally touch his bare skin.

She kissed a line down his jaw to his neck, and he tipped his head back.

He held his breath, hoping she’d bite him again, and when she did the moan she drew from deep in his chest made Belle shiver. She pushed her breasts against him and released his throat with a moan of her own.

"Does that feel good?"

He nodded, all words escaping him as her tongue lapped at the bite. Belle hummed happily and ground her hips into his, adding pressure to his stiffening cock. She was going to kill him before they’d even started.

"Do you want to bite me?" she asked, tilting her head to the side to expose the long length of her pale neck.

"Yes," he rasped.

"Then do it." She pressed herself against him harder, at the same time as she licked a long line up his bloodied neck, and all he could do was roll his head back and groan. "Let go for me," she pleaded. “Bite me.”

All sense of propriety had rushed from the room long ago, and hearing her so sweetly asking him to bite her, Gold was too weak to fight it anymore. He _did_ want her, and she wanted him. He made her like him because he loved her, so why shouldn’t he enjoy the woman he loved?

He sat up, pushing her backwards until she was sitting astride him, and sank his fangs into her neck. She gasped, and it was a sound of pure relief and bliss. There was no pain in it. Even when she clawed her hands down the side of his stomach, he felt nothing but pleasure and lust. And hunger. That was the main thing driving her, he had to remind himself. She hadn’t said she loved him back, but he couldn’t stop himself from clinging onto her and drinking from her.

The sounds she made were sinful, and Gold wondered how she’d sound when he was inside her.

Belle seemed to be as keen as him to find out. She pulled at his belt and he fumbled for the zip at the back of her dress. It was all frenzied and messy. Cold blood trickled down his back, under his shirt, and the fabric clung to his skin. He shrugged it off, leaving it in a crumpled pile with his waistcoat and tie, and Belle ran her hands over his shoulders. He was just as cold as she was, but her touch soothed the fire she was building inside him.

She lifted her dress over her head and Gold followed the line of blood dripping down over her chest. A droplet curved around the swell of her breast, and he dipped down to lick it up before it soaked into the lace of her bra. A moment later and her bra was off, on the floor with everything else, and he kissed a trail of red down the valley between her breasts. 

“Ephraim,” Belle panted, arching her back into him.

She palmed her breast with one hand, and the other dipped lower, down to between her legs. The very idea that she could get off to biting and being bitten, enjoying the things he was doing to her, had Gold’s head spinning. He buried his face back in the curve of her neck, savouring her yelp of surprise and pleasure, and filled his mouth with her blood as she teased herself.

Her breaths came out laboured and desperate, mingled with happy mewls, and he wondered if she’d get off to that alone. But he didn’t want her to. Not yet. Taking his fangs from her neck, Gold looked at her flushed face and hooked his fingers under the sides of her underwear, and pulled. The panties snapped easily, and Belle gasped as he threw the ruined lace to the side.

“Please,” she breathed, cupping the back of his head. “I need more.”

He couldn’t decide which was more appealing; those three little words sounding so sweet on her lips, or the sight of her writhing on top of him. 

Blood pooled in the dip above her collarbone, a stark red against her pale skin. Gold sucked on it and she whined, struggling for words. He didn’t think he’d ever been so desperate to bite and fuck before in his life, and this was even newer for her. He had to remind himself of that.

He leaned away and she tried to pull him back to her before she realised what he was doing. Lying down, he lifted his hips and she quickly pulled his trousers and boxers down over his thighs.

“What do you need more of?” he asked as she eyed him. Gold had never been under any illusions about how he looked. He was an older looking man, he was certainly older than her, with greying hair and his body softer in all the wrong places, but that wasn’t how she looked at him. Belle bit her lip, her perfect little fangs peeking out, and drank him in hungrily.

“Belle?”

“More of you,” she answered huskily. “I need you.” She put her hand against his soft stomach, which was a little rounder than he would have liked, and grabbed his cock with the other.

Shuffling forward on her knees, Belle lined him up with her wet folds and sank down on to him. She felt wonderful, better than he’d ever imagined she would. Her walls slipped around him, soft and wet and inviting, and his hips bucked up reflexively, wanting more.

“ _Mm--_ Do that again,” she said.

Gold rocked his hips up again and her head fell back on a sigh. She started to slowly roll her hips into him and leaned forward, so her pert little breasts bounced against his chest. He cupped them, and they fit so perfectly in his hands, with his thumbs circling her nipples.

“Again,” she repeated, brushing her lips against his. She nipped them and groaned as he lifted his hips to fuck her harder.

The blood on his lips was congealing. It pulled on his skin as she sank her teeth into him and kissed the fresh blood away. He growled and met her hips faster, knocking the breath out of her. 

She broke the kiss with a satisfied hiss and sat up. The new position seemed to feel as good to her as it did to him. Belle cried and threw her head back as she pumped herself up and down his cock, and he grinned.

“Good girl. That’s it,” he breathed, squeezing her thighs. “Take what you need.”

He watched her taking her pleasure from him, riding him and licking his blood from her lips, and he had no idea what lucky star had fallen his way but he wasn’t about to question it now. She wanted him. The woman he’d loved for so long, who he’d nearly lost, was on top of him with a look of pure bliss on her face.

“Ephraim, I’m-- _I can’t_.”

“You can,” he encouraged. “Do you need to come?”

She nodded frantically, digging her hands and nails into his stomach, and the pressure was wonderful.

“Then come. Come with me on your lips and inside you.”

She came undone with a loud cry, her muscles clenching around him, and all but collapsed onto his chest.

He was still hard and aching inside her, but that felt secondary when Belle was coming down from her high and clinging on to him. She breathed heavily, trying to catch her breath, and Gold wrapped his arms around her. Toying with her hair, combing it through with his fingers and brushing it away from the bloodied side of their necks, he realised that that would be enough for him. Even if he didn’t get to climax, he was already as content as her, having Belle lying naked and satisfied in his arms.

“Do you feel better?” he asked quietly, and felt his heart sink when she shook her head.

“Not yet.”

Belle pushed herself up on shaky arms, and gave him such a wicked grin that he wondered if she was always supposed to be like him.

“I’m not finished,” she said, grinding her hips into his.

He groaned and dropped his hands to her hips. She felt like heaven. All she had to do was slowly lift herself, and she had him gasping and rolling his head back.

“Belle,” he grunted, holding her so tight his nails dug into her soft flesh.

“Is that good?” she teased. “Do you want more?”

Gold had no idea what more might be, or if he’d be able to survive more, but he nodded desperately and her grin widened. She ran her hand up his chest and pressed it to his neck. A sharp pain ran through him, and he hissed as she touched the bite. She drew her blood-covered hand away and over her breasts, smearing a long line of red. The sight of it, and Belle cupping her bloodied breasts, teasing herself, sent a tightness straight down to his groin. She squeezed her cunt around him and moaned, the desperation growing higher in her voice as she rode him faster.

“Ephraim,” she sang, putting on a show for him.

“ _Fuck_. Belle, you’re--” The look she gave him, as she lifted her hand and sucked his blood from her fingers, sent him crashing over the edge. His hips bucked up to meet her in desperate jerks, sending hot pleasure through him, and she hummed around her fingers as he filled her.

Like a cat, she languidly lowered herself on top of him and stretched out. Her muscles still fluttered around him in the aftermath, and he wondered if maybe she’d discovered the one way to kill him. She rested her head on his chest, drawing lazy patterns on his arm with the points of her nails. There was already a pleasant sting in his stomach and chest where she’d dug in her nails in her passion, and his neck would take a day or two to fully heal, but he didn’t care. It was all worth it for one moment with her.

He put his hand on her hip and mimicked the patterns she traced on his arm.

“Will you help me?” Belle asked, so quietly that she almost sounded uncertain, but why would she be uncertain about that? He’d do anything for her.

“Of course I’ll help you, sweetheart,” Gold promised, stroking her face and streaking red across her cheek. “I won’t abandon you.”

They lay quietly for a time, naked and holding one another, until their breathing had calmed and he felt like he’d be able to stand without collapsing. Belle shifted on top of him, brushing herself against his softened cock, and lifted her head to look at him.

He braced himself, preparing for her to say that she had to go, or she wanted to move back into her apartment now that he’d helped her to feed. But she smiled softly and ran her hands, covered in dried blood, through his hair.

“I love you, too.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Maplesyrup for beta'ing this chapter, ryoko1027 for making [this](https://ryoko1027.tumblr.com/post/187167187797/inspired-by-in-lovelier-colours-by-mareyshelley) Aesthetic™ edit, and to everyone who's commented so far!

He wasn’t sure about Belle going back to work. It felt too soon after telling her the truth, but she insisted that she felt ready to go back. Not going back, Belle reasoned, would cause more alarm than her staying in his house every day.

Gold had to agree, and he knew how much she loved her library. At least she’d still be staying in his house. He didn’t think he could go back to living alone after a fortnight of having Belle brightening up the place.

She’d agreed to have lunch with him, and he’d arrived early to browse through the library’s shelves until she took a break. In that time alone, Gold had heard one person after another asking her how she was and saying how happy they were to see her back. None of them noticed him, hiding in the shadows, and so none of them held back their comments about her staying in his house. They all asked if she’d moved back into her apartment, and they’d all been disappointed to hear she was still living with Mr. Gold.

Belle had handled it with her typical kindness. She was much more like her old self now that she’d fed, and she’d patiently told all of them that it was her choice. She said she was _happy_ to stay with him.

“Seriously, Belle. _Why_?”

“You know why.”

The Lucas girl stood at the check-in desk, where Belle was sorting through the returned books. Gold stayed hidden behind the shelves for history and the sciences. He could see them if he peered through just the right volumes, but he had no problem hearing her friend’s worry over Belle spending so much time with him.

“But… What about all that stuff with Keith?” Miss Lucas asked. “Gold was seen nearby.”

“What about it?”

“You could be living with a _murderer_ , Belle.”

A silence fell over the library, and Gold was glad no one else was in there to overhear the outburst. He knew Graham had suspected him, albeit briefly, of Nottingham’s disappearance, but he hadn’t known he was now the subject of even more gossip. If he could take anything away from that, at least it meant they were talking about _him_ and not Belle.

“I doubt we’ll ever know what happened to Keith,” Belle said after a moment of thought. “But I don’t think I’m living with a murderer.”

She sounded tired; not from fatigue or lack of food, but from answering the same comments all morning.

Miss Lucas started whispering something across the counter, and Gold tried to distract himself with the books in front of him. He flipped through a few of them, taking nothing in, and couldn’t stop his attention from drifting between the shelved books; over to where Belle was sitting with a pile of them in her lap.

“I know you have a little crush, but he’s taking advantage of that.”

“He’s been nothing but a gentleman.”

Gold stepped deeper into the isle, trying not to listen. It was almost impossible with enhanced senses, but he did try. He had no idea what could be crushing Belle, but he was fairly certain she wouldn’t want him to know about it.

“Gold doesn’t just help people for nothing,” Miss Lucas continued. “He _always_ has a price.”

Belle sighed and stood up. He heard shuffling, and then the tell-tale click of her heels as she disappeared behind another row of bookshelves. Miss Lucas followed her and he moved to the check-in desk. If the waitress thought he’d just arrived, perhaps she’d stay quiet and stop pestering Belle.

“And what’s his price?” Belle asked as he slid on his sunglasses. “Eph-- Mr. Gold.”

He looked up and smiled as she came back to the desk. She was so beautiful, and there was relief in her eyes that made him wonder if she’d been waiting for him to appear all along.

“Miss French,” he replied with a slight bow of his head. “Miss Lucas.”

Belle turned to her friend, who looked both startled and displeased she find him there, and she only gave him a feeble ‘hey’ in return.

“Are you here for lunch?” Belle asked brightly, returning to her desk. Miss Lucas trailed after her and seemed to have a question ready to burst from her lips, but one glance at him made her keep quiet.

“I am,” Gold answered. “Unless you’ve made other plans?”

Miss Lucas shook her head. “Oh, no, I have to get back to Granny’s. Lunch is our busiest time, so...”

“Of course.”

“Actually,” she glanced at the clock and stepped around him, giving him a wide berth, “I better get going. Remember what I said, Belle. About Ashley.”

“Oh, I don’t know--”

“Please. She wants you there.”

She hurried out of the library shortly after, leaving him alone with Belle. She heaved a sigh and leaned back against her desk.

“Did you hear what she said?”

For the first time, Gold found himself wishing he _had_ eavesdropped on a private conversation. He’d heard parts of what Miss Lucas had to say, but he’d deliberately busied himself with other things for the most part.

“Not all of it,” he admitted, stepping closer to her. “But I’m already aware Miss Lucas doesn’t hold me in the highest regard.”

“People think you killed Keith,” she said it bluntly, as matter-of-factly as discussing the weather, and he was oddly relieved that she said it as if she already _knew_. She knew and she’d still defended him. That made it easier to meet her eyes when she looked up at him. “Did you?”

Seeing no point in lying, Gold nodded.

Licking her lips, Belle nodded in return and looked away. She pushed herself away from the desk and busied herself with locking up the library. She was overdue a break after the number of people who’d flooded in that morning just to welcome her back to work, and he watched her quietly until she took his hand and led him to the elevator.

“You don’t wish to go to Granny’s?” he asked as she punched in the number for her little apartment.

“I did,” she answered, stepping back as the doors slid shut. “But I’d rather be alone now.”

“Would you like me to leave?”

Belle smiled sadly and squeezed his hand.

“Alone with _you_ ,” she corrected. “I want you here.”

He couldn’t understand why she would, not after he’d just admitted to killing Nottingham, but she didn’t seem phased by that. She was thoughtful, perhaps a little sad, but certainly not afraid.

The doors _dinged_ open and Belle led him out into her apartment. It was a modest space, with an open plan living room and kitchen, a bathroom, and a bedroom only big enough for a single bed once she’d crammed it full of her books. She’d invited him up once to show him her collection, despite his protests and insistence that it was improper for him to be alone with her in her bedroom.

The kitchen window, the main source of light for her living space, was lined with potted plants. He remembered them being vibrant and full of life, but now they were wilted and grey from lack of care.

“I didn't think to ask if you would want to bring your plants,” he said, an apology on his tongue before she waved it away with one of her books.

“You let me take some of my books to your house. I can…” She put the book onto a pile of others, all stacked on the coffee table, and shrugged. “I'll get more flowers.”

“Can't you save them?”

She turned to him with those light, thoughtful eyes that seemed to see far too much.

“You’d let me take them into your home?”

“Of course.”

With a small, pleased smile, Belle nodded and went back to moving her books from her sofa.

“I can try,” she said, and offered him a seat.

She kept a hold of one of those books, squeezing the cover tight as she looked around the room. It was a hardback book, but the cover curved in her strong grip, and he was tempted to reach out and save it from her.

“Do you really need to eat?” Belle asked quickly, in a tumble of words just as he reached out for the book.

Gold dropped his hand, trying to make sense of her hurried question.

“To eat?”

“Food,” she explained. “Real food. Do you need to eat it?”

 _Oh_.

“No. It does nothing for us,” he answered honestly.

Her shoulders slumped and she nodded as she put the book on top of a pile with the others. It was a wonder the tower of books hadn’t toppled over.

“I was going to offer you something to eat, but...” She shrugged and lowered her head.

“That isn’t what’s troubling you, is it?” he realised out loud.

Shaking her head, Belle fell down into the seat beside him. He wasn’t any better off, but at least he knew _something_ was wrong, and she didn’t flinch away when he brought his arm around her.

He wouldn’t force her to say anything if she wasn’t ready or prepared to share, but he wouldn’t leave her to be sad all by herself, either. She slid her arms around him, under his blazer and overcoat, and he had to push back the memory of her naked body pressed against his. Neither of them had spoken about what had happened between them, and he’d suspected she was either embarrassed or regretful of what they’d done, but she held him just as tight as she always did. She wasn’t disgusted by his touch.

“Ashley’s having a baby shower,” she muttered eventually, with just enough of a waver in her voice for him to know she was trying not to cry. 

“I’m afraid I don’t recognise the name.”

“Miss Boyd,” Belle sniffled patiently.

“Ah.” He nodded and rested his chin on top of her head. “Why does that make you sad?”

“She’s having a baby.”

 _Oh_.

“I’ve been reading,” she continued. “About… us. People like us.”

“Books aren’t usually very accurate about that.”

“I didn’t think they would be, but... There’s always the same kind of rules that crop up in every book.”

“You have questions,” he said, and she nodded against his chest. “You can ask me anything, sweetheart.”

Belle took a deep breath.

“The sun won’t kill us?”

“No. We’re sensitive to it, and it makes us weaker, but it won’t kill us.”

“What about a stake to the heart?”

“Most things die if you stab them in the heart.”

She snorted and leaned back to look at his face. He’d at least managed to make her smile, but it was short-lived. It quickly turned sad, and her hands gripped at the side of his waistcoat. Those weren’t really the questions she wanted answered. He wasn’t sure how he would answer her real question.

“But we’re dead?”

“Technically,” he agreed.

“So, I can’t...” She sighed a shaky breath. “I won’t ever have a baby shower, will I?”

Gold looked down. He knew how she felt, even if he didn't remember it. The pain had dulled to a distant feeling a long time ago, but he knew that when he'd first realised he'd never have another child, it had hurt. Belle would never have any children, and it was another thing he could add to his list of atrocities.

His answer must have shown on his face, before he had a chance to form the right words to break the news to her gently, because her face crumpled and she hid it against his chest.

He didn’t deserve her touch. Belle was wonderful with children. He’d seen her once or twice, when the local primary school had visited, reading to the children. She was so good with them, it had been clear to him then that she’d be a wonderful mother.

He’d taken that chance from her, in his selfish attempt to save her.

“I’m so sorry,” Gold muttered into her hair, and that broke her.

She must have kept everything bottled up from the moment he’d told her the truth, and it all flowed out of her in heaving sobs. Her whole body shook against him as she started to cry, and all as Gold could do was hold her tighter and whisper soothing nonsense into her ear. He apologised and told her it would be all right, and stroked the back of her head until she settled and her loud cries turned to wet sniffles.

“I think, perhaps--” He paused and listened to Belle’s unsteady breaths. “Perhaps you should close the library for the rest of the day? Just for today.”

She nodded silently and nuzzled her face into his neck. Gold wondered if she’d try to bite him. He half-hoped she would.

“Just for today,” Belle repeated, leaning back to look at him with red-rimmed eyes.

He brought a hand up to stroke the wet away from her cheeks and she closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. He didn't deserve his attentions being welcomed by her. She was all the things he wasn't. She was light and life itself. She was care and forgiveness. He’d loved all of that about her, but he'd taken it away. Now there was an edge to the way she looked at the world, and him, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“Tell me something good.”

His hand stilled on her cheek. “Good?”

“Tell me something good about this life.”

There had to be many good things to being stronger and faster, never getting sick or ageing, but would that be better than never having children and having to drink human blood?

"You'll stay just as you are now," he suggested.

"Forever?"

He nodded.

"Like those photographs in your house," she said.

"I suppose so, in a manner of speaking."

Belle’s sharp eyes looked him over, and he wondered if there was anything he could say that would make her feel better.

“You’re empty,” she said, in a mixture of wonder and sadness. “You’ve forgotten how to live.”

“I don’t need to know _how_ to live,” he said indignantly.

“I mean, you’ve forgotten how to enjoy yourself,” Belle corrected, lifting herself up onto her knees to face him fully. “When did...” She pushed her lips together and shuffled closer, taking his hand. “When were you changed?”

Gold stared at her hand over his, holding him so gently without a hint of fear or disgust, only kindness.

“The nineties,” he said absently.

“Really?” she sounded surprised, and he couldn’t think why until she narrowed her eyes and leaned closer. “Which nineties?”

Now, that was a question he refused to answer. The _nineteen_ -nineties had been awful. Of course he wasn’t from the nineteen-nineties. Surely she could see that?

Looking him up and down, Belle hummed thoughtfully to herself and Gold tried to ignore her fingers stroking the back of his hand.

“You’re a Victorian,” she decided, a hint of amusement in her voice. “I should have known.”

“Should you?”

Her amusement turned to sadness. She looked at him, not with her usual brightness or her new sharp edge, but as if she was seeing him for the first time. She took her hand from his, and he thought she was going to pull away, before she almost threw herself into his lap and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

“Belle?”

She pulled his head to her chest, like she meant to comfort him in the same way he had when she cried. But neither of them were crying now, and he didn’t understand her desire to hold him.

He relaxed against her when she stroked her hands through his hair and down his back. He may not have understood what she was doing, but he couldn’t turn away her touch, and she moulded so perfectly against him as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

She sniffled and rested her cheek over his head.

“What is it?”

“I'm afraid,” she admitted quietly, and he felt a pang go through his old heart. Belle was never afraid.

“Of me?” he asked.

“No,” she promised, gripping his shoulders. “I’ve never been afraid of you.”

“You should be.”

“I don’t need to be now, do I?”

He looked up, frowning. She met his eyes with no sign of hesitation or fear, but with a challenge. She was right, and there was no point in denying it.

“No, I suppose not,” he allowed.

Smiling, Belle smoothed her hands down the back of his suit.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be afraid,” Gold said gently, “but you should hate me for what I’ve done.”

“Why should I?” she challenged, her sadness replaced with a flicker of that growing rage he couldn’t help but admire. “I told you I love you, Ephraim, and I mean it.”

He searched her face, and she didn’t wince or look away. She unflinchingly looked back at him, with a determined frown, and he had to push himself to ask, “Why?”

With a shrug, Belle went back to running her hands up and down his back, and he tried very hard to ignore the feel of her touch. It was inappropriate to think of sex when she’d been crying into his suit only a moment ago.

“You're so smart,” she said, “and gentlemanly. I used to wonder why you bothered to come to the library. You'd already read every book I tried to recommend.” She gave him a secretive smile and licked her lips. “But now I think I know why.” Her hands brushed up his shoulders and she delved her fingers into his hair.

He closed his eyes and tilted his head as she worked her fingers against his scalp, the tips of her nails teasing him lightly.

“Belle--”

“And you're really handsome,” she interrupted, biting her lip almost mischievously when his eyes shot open.

“You...” He cleared his throat and struggled to think with her hands still stroking his head. “You don’t regret what we did?”

Her smile fell, and she took her hands away so fast that her nails scratched him. He winced.

“Do you?” she worried.

“No. No, of course not. No.” He grabbed her hands before she could stand up and smiled, hoping she’d smile back. “I thought you would.”

“I don’t.”

“Nor do I.”

Belle dived at him, knocking him back into the settee cushions, and kissed him. He needed no more convincing than that, and she straddled his lap and opened her mouth to his eagerly returned kiss. She tasted of sweet tea, the points of her fangs pricked his tongue, and he gripped her tighter. He wanted more of her; more of her sweet taste and her teeth sinking into him.

She ended the kiss with heaving breaths, and he growled as she pressed herself into him.

“I want to do it again,” she whispered, grinding against his hips, and that was more like the brave Belle he knew.


	7. Chapter 7

Belle leaned over him, caught between desire and uncertainty. He could see the question in her pale eyes before she even opened her mouth, and Gold held her hips as he braced himself for whatever she wanted to ask next.

“Do you want to?” she asked.

All he could do was nod dumbly as she sat back, pressing her full weight into his groin. He tried not to react, not when she was worrying over him, but his cock didn’t listen. Belle was straddling him and his body reacted accordingly.

“Of course I do,” he said, voice already hoarse.

“But I thought--” She waved her hands, making him smile despite his confusion. “You’re a Victorian.”

“I was.”

“You’re very… old fashioned,” she went on, making him frown.

“Old fashioned?”

“You’re a _gentleman_ ,” she corrected hastily. “And knowing what time you come from...”

“Yes?”

“Are you ashamed of what we did?”

She hung her head and picked at the buttons of his waistcoat, and for the life of him Gold couldn’t work out why his age would make him ashamed of having sex. Did she think he was _too_ old?

Determined to displace that thought from her mind, before he really did shame himself with her pressed against him, he sat up and wrapped his arm firmly about her waist.

“I’m not ashamed,” he promised, stealing a kiss. “I could never be ashamed of being with you.”

A smile bloomed on Belle’s face, but before she could reply, he lifted her up and lowered her onto her back. She wiggled, getting herself comfortable on the settee cushions, and lifted her knees on either side of his hips.

“Good,” she said quietly, and trailed her hand down the front of his chest. She undid the top button of his waistcoat, searched his face, and then undid another two.

“You have more questions,” he observed.

Belle bit back a smile and nodded, unfastening all of the buttons until his waistcoat hung open. He leaned back and shrugged it off with his blazer.

“They can wait,” she said. “I just-- I have this feeling.”

“Oh?”

She sat up, pushing him back onto his knees, and tugged on his tie.

“I have an… ache,” she explained. Her voice was low and sultry, and sent an ache of his own straight down to his cock. The smile on her face, barely hidden as she pressed her lips together, told him that Belle knew exactly what she was doing as she pulled off his tie and purred in his ear. “Can you help me?”

Words didn’t come to him easily when she threw his tie aside and made short work on the front of his shirt. He had just enough semblance of mind to know that she wanted a response. Any response.

“Describe it to me?” he asked.

“Describe it?” Belle repeated, pushing his shirt from him. “I don’t know.”

Humming in thought, she pulled her hair over her shoulder, sending him the faintest hint of her flowery perfume as he leaned into her. She was going to drag this out, he could tell, and he didn’t mind one bit.

“Unzip me first,” she said, giving him permission to wrap his arms around her and slide down the zip at the back of her shirt. It was a black, sleeveless shirt with frills, and as much as he liked the way it looked on her, he took great delight in taking it off.

He pulled her against his chest and kissed her shoulders, and she slid her arms around his neck. Her skin was so soft and cool to the touch. He couldn’t help but wonder if he felt just as cold to her, and if it gave her the same thrill he got when he held her against him.

“Tell me about this ache,” Gold pressed, kissing his way up her neck.

“It’s low down-- Oh!” He nipped at her neck, just hard enough to leave two pin-pricks on her skin, and she tipped her head back.

“Low down?”

“Yes,” she tried to carry on. “I ache so… so much, and I don’t know what for.”

“Don’t you?” Gold licked at the bite, making her shudder. “I think you know. It’s instinct.” He looked up at her, her light eyes heavy with desire, and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “Tell me what you want.”

“You,” Belle said, letting him go. She reached behind her, holding his gaze, and unclasped her bra. There wasn’t a hint of shyness as she threw it over his shoulder and exposed herself to his approving eyes.

Taking his hands, she pressed them to her breasts and leaned forward.

“I ache for you,” she whispered against his lips, and he let her steal a slow, almost tender kiss, but pulled away when he felt the sharp points of her fangs.

“What else?” he asked, gently squeezing her breasts. She arched her back, pushing her chest against his hands, and he teased her nipples into hard peaks with the pads of his thumb.

“ _Ephraim._ ”

“What else?” he repeated.

“Please,” she begged, reaching for his belt.

“What else do you ache for, Belle?”

She bit her lip, hesitating, and he was about to take the question back; she didn’t have to answer if she didn’t want to, but then a smile slowly spread across her face. She was the picture of mischief as she unbuckled his belt and gave it a sharp tug to pull it free of its loops.

“Blood,” she purred, wrapping the belt around his shoulders to pull him to her so she could kiss him.

Gold smiled against her lips, and Belle hummed happily. She sucked in his lower lip and nipped at it, and he was happy to let her if it meant hearing more of those wonderful little moans she made as she drank from him.

When she released him with a sharp hiss for air, Gold licked a drop of blood from her lip and ran his hands down her sides.

“Are you hungry?” he teased.

She nodded quickly, and he took mercy on her. He nudged her backwards, coaxing her to lie down, and she went willingly, dropping his belt to the floor.

“You’re magnificent,” he said, settling between her legs. “So beautiful and fierce.”

The fact that she’d allowed him to touch her once - and on the floor of his shop, of all places - still hadn’t fully sunk in. Gold couldn’t quite believe that he was fortunate enough to have been forgiven, and to have been entirely accepted by the smart, beautiful librarian he’d loved for so long. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to how eager she was for his touch, or the sweet noise she made when he put his mouth back on her neck.

Her blood coated his tongue, and Belle’s hand stroked through his hair encouragingly, holding him in place. That was the only nudge Gold needed for him to open his mouth and sink his fangs into her. It was an intimate thing, biting and allowing oneself to be bitten, and the sounds she made were that of pleasure, not pain. She moaned and bucked her hips up. His cock strained against his trousers, and he couldn’t wait to get them and her skirt off.

Gold sucked on the bite, filling his mouth with her coppery, slick blood, and released her _just_ as she started to sweetly beg him for more.

“Don’t stop,” she pleaded breathlessly, and pressed uselessly against his head. “I need more.”

“Don’t you want to bite me, too?” he asked, and she immediately stopped pulling on him.

“Yes,” she panted. “Yes. Ephraim, come here.”

“Not yet.” She whined as he sat up, pulling himself free of her hands, but she smiled as soon as she realised what he was doing.

“Lift your hips, sweetheart,” he said gently, hooking his fingers over the top of her skirt.

She pushed herself up without question, breathing heavily, and let him slip her skirt and underwear down her legs. He left her heels on.

“You’re terrible,” she teased, wriggling her feet as he made short work of kicking off his trousers and boxers. He didn’t leave his own shoes on.

Holding her leg as she wrapped it back around him, Gold pressed a kiss to her ankle.

“You’re beautiful,” he repeated, tracing his lips up to her knee. “I love seeing you like this.”

Belle lowered her leg and reached out for him. He let her take his hands and pull him down, and she smiled at him, as if she had a secret she couldn’t wait to tell him.

“Naked?” she asked, laughter in her voice.

“Free,” Gold corrected, stroking his hand down her cheek and over her chest. She was wonderful, and she deserved to be told that in every little touch and kiss he gave her.

“Wild,” he added, following his hand with kisses down her neck. “Untamed.”

With a content sigh, Belle slipped her fingers into his hair as he kissed and nipped lightly at her breasts.

“Ephraim--” He took her nipple into his mouth, cutting her off. She gasped and cupped the back of his head as he swirled his tongue around the stiff peak. “Please. Let me taste you.”

Tugging on his hair, just strong enough for it to be on the right side of painful, Belle pulled him up and claimed his lips with her own. She wrapped her arms around his neck, locking him in place - not that he had any intention of pulling away - and bit him.

Gold growled and rolled his hips forward, rubbing his stiff cock against her wetness, and she moaned in return. Her cheer as she kissed him and drank his blood, and held him close to her, helped to calm his darkness. He let her take what she wanted, and reached down to guide himself into her.

He tried not to move too much or too fast with her teeth latched on to his lip, but it was difficult once he was buried inside her. Her touch alone sent a jolt of need down his spine.

He let himself be consumed by Belle; by the feel of her soft body underneath him, her plump lips sucking on him, the smell of the rose and pomegranate shampoo she’d asked him to buy for her. It was almost too much when combined with his cock sheathed inside her, and when she released his lip with a happy moan, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Stop teasing,” she murmured, kissing along his jaw. He tilted his neck, expecting her to bite him, but she tugged on his earlobe instead and whispered into the shell of his ear, “Fuck me.”

Gold groaned and she nipped him again. Hearing that one little word fall from her lips shouldn’t have been as exciting as it was.

He rolled his hips back slowly and pushed into her just as slow. Belle lifted her hips to meet his, pressing the hard line of the back of her heels into his back, and they soon settled into a steady rhythm, rocking against one another.

She felt wonderful, and he had no idea how he was able to hold back his climax. Her nails dug into his back as he slowly fucked her. She panted and moaned in his ear, and dragged her nails down his sides. He hissed at the sharp, pleasant sting, and couldn’t wait for her to bite him. He needed more of her.

“My fierce love,” Gold muttered, kissing her neck and breathing in her intoxicating scent. “Do you want to let go?”

“ _Yes_ ,” she hissed, clinging on to him.

“Then let go.” Gold tipped his head to the side and nipped at her shoulder. It wasn’t hard, it didn’t draw blood, but she moaned and arched her back underneath him.

“Bite me, Belle,” he coaxed. “Let go.”

Kissing his jaw, Belle traced her hand up his back and smoothed her palm over where she’d scratched him. Just the feeling of her hand running over the stinging marks she’d left behind sent a shiver through him. He grunted against her shoulder, just as she sank her teeth into his neck. It sent a second shiver full of adrenaline and pleasure through him, and he pounded into her harder.

She keened, the sound muffled by her mouth latched onto him, as he fucked her faster. It made her have to release him, and the glorious feeling she’d been eliciting with her mouth ended. Which was probably for the best. Gold was too dangerously close to coming and he was determined to push Belle to her own climax before that happened.

“Ephraim,” she moaned, lapping at the bite. “I’m… so close.”

“What do you need?”

“ _Bite me_.”

He could have bitten her neck, or her shoulder, but looking down at Belle changed his mind. Her eyes were closed, with her lips parted and coloured red with his blood, and he knew her fast favourite place to bite him. He kissed her and nipped at her pretty lower lip. The sounds it drew from her, muffled by his mouth as he sucked on her blood, were shameless.

It undid her almost immediately.

Belle cried out into the kiss and her cunt fluttered around him. All Gold could taste or feel or hear was her, and her nails digging into his shoulders in her ecstasy tipped him over the edge with her. He released her lip with a groan and she squeezed him as he came inside her.

The room filled with a comfortable silence when they were done, with only their heavy breathing to disturb it.

“I like you like this, too,” Belle muttered, limp and languid beneath him. She lazily traced her fingertips up his side, and Gold had to use what strength he had left to stop himself from collapsing on top of her.

“You’re usually so calm and buttoned-up.” Bringing her hands up, over his chest and cheeks, Belle brushed back his hair and smiled. “And I can undo that.”

She was too clever and bold for her own good. All she had to do was smile and she could undo him, and Gold was sure she must know that.

“I’d wager you have that effect on most men.”

Belle frowned. “Do you want me to do this with other men?”

Gold searched her face, and she matched his hard stare without flinching. She expected an answer, but he didn’t know what to say. Was it a trick question? Was there a man she wanted? She must have had plenty of admirers. He couldn’t be the only one in Storybrooke who’d been taken in by her beauty and brains. She could certainly do better than him.

“I want you to be happy,” he answered at last.

“Good,” she said, beaming and playing with his hair. “Because the _only_ man I want is on top of me.”

She bit her lip, in that adorable way that always worried him she might nick herself, and Gold pushed himself up, trying not to laugh in his relief.

“You’re a wonder,” he said. Perhaps, in time, he’d come to believe her. He certainly knew she believed what she said, but someone like him wasn’t deserving of someone like Belle, and either she’d come to realise that one day, or he’d start to believe that she thought he was.

Sitting down, he watched as she sat up, with her hair falling around her shoulders. He’d expected her to get up, but she surprised him again by sitting down in his lap.

“Where are you going?” she teased, looping her arm around his shoulders. “ _Oh_.”

Gold frowned and gripped her thigh.

“What is it?”

“There’s blood on the sofa,” she said, and he followed her hand to the dark stain seeping into the brown cushions. It wasn’t a large stain, considering they’d both bitten one another on the neck, but it was enough to be noticeable. The floorboards in the back room of his shop still had a matching stain, and he almost wanted to keep it, just for the memory it held.

“I’ll have Dove come and clean it,” he assured her.

“Oh,” Belle repeated, quieter than before. “I suppose you’re… used to it.”

Gold snorted. “Stained cushions? Hardly. I don’t bring people home to bite them.”

She relaxed against him, pressing her soft breasts into his chest. He hadn’t realised how tense she’d been.

“So, you don’t do this a lot?” She had a look on her wide-eyed face that said, if it were possible, she’d be blushing. “I mean-- Biting and… sex. With other vampires.”

His heart sank.

“I’m afraid I’ve given you the wrong impression. This isn’t a common occurrence for me.”

“But it is for others?”

“Only if you’re fortunate enough to find someone you trust.”

It was only when a bright, relieved smile crossed Belle’s face that he realised what he’d said, and that he’d meant it.

“You trust me?” she asked cheerfully.

“Yes,” he answered as Belle dipped down to kiss his cheek. “More than anything.”

She had such a happy look on her face that Gold couldn’t help but smile back.

“I wish I had a bigger bed,” she sighed, dropping her voice to a low whisper. She playfully walked her fingers across her thigh and up his stomach, pricking him with her nails. “You’ll have to hold me close.”

“Was that a hint?”

She hummed and nodded, watching the path her hand took as she stroked her hand over where she’d poked him, and he didn’t need to be told twice. He wrapped his arms behind her back and under her legs, and lifted her up with ease. Belle laughed and swung her legs as he carried her across the room.

“I like how strong you are,” she murmured into his ear, and he kicked the bedroom door shut behind them.


	8. Chapter 8

There wasn't a single book in the library that could have prepared her for this.

She'd read most of the classics, and some of the newer ones, and then tried to read them again. None of it helped. None of it gave her any idea how she was supposed to deal with it. They were all fictional stories, written by people who had no idea about the real thing.

But Ephraim did.

Belle looked across to him as he drove, and he glanced back at her. She couldn’t see his eyes through the dark glasses he wore, but she somehow knew his gaze held a question. He probably wanted to know why she was watching him. As if she couldn’t possibly just want to admire him; in his nice suit, with his even nicer face and strange eyes. They had an unusual, amber reflection in the light, but she only now understood why they looked so different. So inhuman. Belle had always loved his eyes.

Smiling to herself, she looked back out the window to the houses speeding by.

She had no idea why she’d let Ruby talk her into going to Ashley’s party. Nerves still churned in her stomach, and the sadness of knowing she would never experience that for herself still lingered in the back of her mind, but Ephraim had encouraged her to spend time with her friends. She couldn’t spend all her days in the library or his home, he’d said, no matter how much she wanted to.

So there she was, with a present wrapped up in her lap and Ephraim driving her to the baby shower.

To the outside world, she was prepared and happy for her friend, but as soon as the Cadillac pulled up outside Ashley’s house, Belle gripped the present tight and looked back at Ephraim.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” she said quietly.

“You can,” he promised, taking her hand. “They’re your friends. Their love for you hasn’t changed.”

“But I have.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Lifting her hand, Ephraim kissed her knuckles. “I can take you home, if that’s what you want,” he said. “But I think your friends would like to see you.”

Belle wasn’t a fool, she knew that home to him was just his own home, he wasn’t calling it _their_ home.

“I think...” He smiled at her encouragingly, and Belle relaxed. “I’ll stay. Just for a little bit.”

She regretted that decision almost the moment she left Ephraim’s car and stepped into the house. Everyone was friendly and welcoming, the whole atmosphere of the house was one of family and friendship, and that made her feel worse. It wasn’t that Belle didn’t want to spend time with Ruby or Ashley, or Ariel and Mary Margaret, but the whole party was a reminder of something she’d no longer ever be able to have.

It wasn’t so bad when they were greeting one another and catching up. No one mentioned her father, or her accident, or her living with Ephraim. But then the games had started, and each one drove a spike into her gut.

She wanted to leave. Any other party would have been better than this one.

When Ashley offered them something to eat or drink, as a short break from the games, Belle hoped her relief didn’t show on her face. She wasn’t hungry, Ephraim had let her bite him that morning in the shower, but for the last hour she’d been playing those games to the backdrop of faint drumming. She’d happily enjoy a slice of cake if it meant not having to play another game that got their heart rates up.

“I saw Gold on my way here,” Ruby commented.

Belle closed her eyes and gripped her plate.

“He dropped me off on his way to work.”

“I thought his shop was opposite the library?” Ariel asked.

“It--”

“She’s still living with him,” Ruby answered before Belle could.

The three others turned to her with wide eyes and open mouths.

“Why?” Ariel asked.

“Are you still sick?” Mary Margaret added.

Belle looked down at her half-eaten slice of cake and tried not to sigh. It wasn’t their fault. They’d just have to get used to her new relationship, even if they couldn’t understand it.

“We’re sort of… together,” she said.

“You and _Gold_?” Ashley asked. Belle nodded and took a large bite of cake to keep herself from saying what she really wanted to say. “But he’s so...”

“Awful.”

“Old.”

“Weird.”

Belle swallowed and put her plate down. There was little point in arguing. They hadn’t seen the side of Ephraim that she had. They’d never believe what a thoughtful, intelligent soul he really was. Their instincts told them not to trust him, not to get too close to him. It wasn’t their fault they were only human.

“He isn’t to me,” she said quietly, earning her a set of worried and dubious frowns.

“Well,” Ariel said, just a little too cheerily. “I’m sure he can’t be that bad. Not if Belle likes him.”

Her mood went from dim to dark as she sat through Ashley complaining about Sean working all the time, and Ariel and Mary Margaret talked about their own work, and their families. All of them had busy lives that had carried on whilst she’d been in the hospital and changed. She couldn’t fault them for that. She was happy that her friends had so much to be proud of and to look forward to, but she didn’t feel a part of it anymore, and she couldn’t share stories with them of her new life. Not without leaving out most of it.

She wanted to talk about how happy she was with Ephraim. How, yes, he could be a bit of a workaholic, but he made time for her and he always made sure she was happy. But she couldn’t talk about it, because her friends would never believe that she was happy with him, even if he had saved her life. And the only family she had - the only blood relative she would ever have - was locked away in the hospital because she’d changed.

So she kept quiet and, eventually, they realised she wasn’t joining in.

“Are you okay, Belle?” Mary Margaret asked gently.

“I’m fine.”

Mary Margaret looked to the others, but neither of them were able to help. None of them knew how to make Belle feel better, and she didn’t know how to talk to them.

When the time for food was over, and Ruby announced another game, Belle announced that she had to go. She had some work to do at the library; urgent work that couldn’t wait until tomorrow. She almost felt guilty when they all stood to hug her and told her how happy they were she could make it.

Ephraim was right. Their love for her hadn’t changed, but she had, in so many ways.

Stepping outside was a relief. The bright sky hurt her eyes before she remembered she needed to slip on her shades, but it was still more welcome than being closed up in Ashley’s house.

Belle held her head high as she walked away, and made her way to Ephraim’s shop. The walk didn’t take her as long as she thought it would. Before she knew it, she was walking down the main street, passed Marco’s and Granny’s, and Ephraim’s shop front was in sight. He was standing outside, and Belle raised her hand to wave to him as she crossed the street, until she realised he was talking to someone.

_It’s the mayor._

Belle slowed down as she took the two of them in. It was the start of autumn, the sun was dimmed by clouds, and although both herself and Ephraim were wearing sunglasses, so was Regina. Which, unless Regina was even more fashion conscious than Belle had ever imagined, meant that she and Ephraim weren’t alone in Storybrooke.

She stopped.

Ephraim had told her that doing _that_ \- sex and biting - wasn’t a common thing for him, but that didn’t mean he never did it. A weight dropped in her stomach. What if he’d done it with Regina? Was she just the latest in a long line?

Her sickening worry gave way to a wash of anger, and Belle marched towards them.

“You’ll be happy to know you’re no longer a suspect in that tragic disappearance,” Regina said.

“And why would I be? Mr. Nottingham’s bad habits were bound to catch up with him eventually.”

Regina looked towards Belle, and her rage grew when Regina had the gall to _smile_ and point her way.

“Isn’t that your pretty roommate?” she asked Ephraim. “My, she does look angry.”

He turned, just as she was only a short few paces away, and the hard frown he must have been giving Regina softened into a smile.

“Belle,” he greeted.

“We’re going home.”

“Is the party over already?”

Belle threw Regina a look over Ephraim’s shoulder, although he was tall enough to probably hide most of her face from where Regina stood. She could only just see the top-half of Regina’s face, but her eyes were hidden and Belle couldn’t tell if she was smiling or glaring.

“You call this nothing to worry about?” Regina asked.

Ephraim didn’t even look at her. He kept his back to her, his eyes firmly fixed on Belle, and she wished he wouldn’t look at her with such concern. It was his fault for lying and toying with words.

She balled her hands into fists.

“We’re leaving,” Belle insisted. “Now.”

Taking Ephraim’s hand, she pulled him away from Regina and around the corner of his shop, to where she knew he always parked his Cadillac. His protests and confusion quickly faded when he unlocked the car and she quietly sat inside, without explaining why she was so angry or upset.

He slipped into the seat beside her. The leather creaked, and the car rocked slightly as he shifted his weight, but she didn’t look at him. She kept her eyes fixed firmly on the empty street ahead.

Regina must have walked away, and that was at least one thing she could be thankful for.

“How was the party?” he asked eventually.

“I shouldn’t have gone,” she answered, glancing down at her hands in her lap. “It was just a reminder of how much has changed.”

Ephraim twisted in his seat to face her, but she still refused to look at him. She swallowed the lump in the back of her throat and sniffed, and he waited quietly, patiently, for her to find her voice again.

It took a moment. Belle didn’t trust herself to speak without her voice breaking, but that couldn’t be any worse than sitting with him in silence.

“She was mocking me,” she said quietly, and Ephraim sighed.

He hooked his thumb under her chin, and dipped his head forward to try and see her face. She looked up at him and he smiled sadly.

“She was mocking _me_ ,” he corrected.

Belle couldn’t believe that. What was there to mock about him? It was her who’d been silly and naive and let her trusting nature get the better of her.

“You have a kind heart,” Ephraim said, like he could read her thoughts in her eyes. “It's what first drew me to you. Your light. Your kindness.” He smiled and stroked her cheek, coaxing her to lift her head a little higher. “But now you have a rage in you that matches it. A fire like that, burning in a heart already full to bursting?” He paused, as if he wanted her to answer, or to think about the answer, but he brushed his thumb tenderly over her bottom lip and kept her quiet. “You’re dangerous.”

Belle frowned.

“But you let me go to Ashley’s party,” she said quietly.

“Not dangerous to them,” he explained, shaking his head as though the very idea was ridiculous. “I don’t fancy you could ever hurt the ones you love.”

Belle looked down to her hands in her lap, and leaned into him when he brushed his thumb up her cheek and cupped the side of her head. He wanted her to look at him again, but she couldn’t meet his eyes. She had changed. She hadn’t realised just how much while she’d shut herself away with him and let herself indulge in all her fantasies of loving him and him loving her. Now she’d woken up to the real world, and the dangers her new situation posed, and she didn’t know what to do with herself.

“You were worried how another vampire would react,” she concluded, “if they knew about me.”

Ephraim sighed. “Aye.”

She licked her lips and glanced up at him, intending to look away straight after, but he gave her such a soft, sad smile, that she couldn’t look away from him. She was drawn in by his beautiful, amber eyes.

“So you told her she had nothing to worry about,” Belle whispered, and he nodded in answer. 

Tears pricked in her eyes and she dived forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He tensed, but she held him tight and hid her face against his neck, and he soon relaxed. His cologne, like a forest and the leaf-strewn earth after rain, mixed with his own musk, the same one that filled his car. She breathed him in as his arms circled her waist, and she sighed as his comforting presence surrounded her. 

“Can we go home now?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

The energy in the car that morning had been an apprehensive buzz, tinged with worry. Now, the heavy weight that had followed her from Ashley’s started to break. She felt lighter. At least her changes didn’t bother Ephraim. He still loved her, just like her friends did. Changes and all.

“I’m going out tonight,” he said, breaking her reverie.

He’d never told her that before -- he hadn’t been _out_ at night since the night Keith disappeared -- but Belle somehow still knew what he meant.

She looked at him, at his clenched jaw and white-knuckled grip on the wheel, and felt his sadness dripping into her lighter mood.

“Do you want to come with me?” he asked quietly.

Belle clutched her hands together in her lap and shook her head.

“I… I can’t. I can’t do that.” Licking her lips, she looked down at her wringing hands, making herself small. She didn’t want him to go out, for any reason. She wanted him to stay with her. “Can I sleep in your bed tonight?”

She felt him turn to look at her, and she held her breath as she waited for his answer.

“Of course,” he said. “I won’t be gone long.”

It should have bothered her more than it did, knowing what he was going to do. She should have warned Storybrooke somehow. She should have told Graham, or done something to keep Ephraim at home - it would have been easy for her to lure him up to bed and make sure he stayed there all night - but she wouldn’t. She didn’t really want to. She knew he had to feed, and one day his blood alone wouldn’t be enough to sustain her. It was a fact of her new life that she’d have to accept. Another change.

The car pulled up outside the old Victorian, and Belle saw Mrs. Crane through the sitting room window. She’d be preparing Belle something to eat, under Ephraim’s orders, but it wasn’t the thought of homemade soup that made her stomach ache.

Ephraim brushed her hair behind her ear and Belle turned to look at him.

“I’ll bring you something back,” he promised.


	9. Chapter 9

He splashed water on his face and held his hands under the hot stream.

Gold wouldn’t go up to Belle looking like a horror. He knew he must have blood on his face. His hands had been covered in it, but it was his own fault. He’d underestimated the shorter man. He hadn’t expected him to fight back, and he hadn’t expected it to be so difficult to fill a flask.

His suit was a mess, but with Belle in his room he wouldn’t be able to change before seeing her. She’d just have to see him dishevelled and blood-stained. The least he could do was make sure there was none on his hands and face.

Turning off the water, Gold dabbed himself dry. He looked up from the sink, to the kitchen window now lined with all the dead and dying flowers from Belle’s apartment. The window was too narrow to house all of her flowers, and some had been sat in the sitting room, beside the picture on the mantelpiece.

There were new shoots sprouting in some of the pots, and one or two of the flowers had a little more colour since Dove had brought them to the house. The soil was dark, not the grey, dry dirt it had been after weeks of being untended. Beside the sink was a little china cup, partially-filled with water, and he supposed Belle must have watered her plants before going to bed.

Gold sighed. She was meant to create life, to thrive in all things bright and good. She wasn’t meant to be like him, but he couldn’t put it off any longer. He grabbed the china cup, tipped away the remaining water, and took it and a flask upstairs.

He knew Belle was awake before he reached his room. The bed sheets rustled, and a cold breeze hit him as he nudged the door open with his shoulder.

“Belle?”

The bed creaked as she leaned across it to turn on the bedside lamp, and the room filled with a dim, yellow light.

She smiled at him once both their eyes had adjusted, and shuffled back to her side of the bed.

 _Her_ side, Gold laughed to himself. There was no her side. She hadn’t said she wanted to sleep in his bed permanently. It was only for one night, while she was worried and didn’t want to be alone.

“You opened the window?” he asked as he sat on the edge of the bed -- on _his_ side, he supposed -- and showed her the flask. Something _sloshed_ inside it and Belle edged closer, licking her lips.

“I wanted to hear you coming up the path,” she said with a little nod. “Is that it?”

She reached for the flask, but hesitated just before her fingers touched the warm metal. It was hard to see her like that; so unsure of herself and what to do. There was a part of her that _wanted_ to consume what was in the flask, just like he knew there was a part of her that would have enjoyed going out with him that night. But this was Belle. Belle was too compassionate to take any joy in someone being hurt, or killed. The new vampire nature battled against her old self.

Gold sighed and kicked off his shoes. The things on the tray slipped and clicked together as he shifted his weight, lifting his legs up onto the bed to sit beside her.

“Do you want some now?” he asked tentatively.

Belle shuffled across and leaned into his side. His shirt was still tacky with congealing blood, and he was certain she would be able to smell the rich undertone with her head on his shoulder, but she made no move to show it. Not that he was surprised. The man was another drunkard from the Rabbit Hole; another who wouldn’t be missed. Under the warm, metallic scent of his blood was the distinct trace of alcohol. That wouldn’t be appetising to anyone, but it was easier to pick off drunks than sober prey who could fight back and draw attention.

Taking a deep breath, Belle put her hand on his thigh and looked up at him.

“Was it quick?” she asked, and all he could do was nod. It hadn’t been as quick as his usual kills, filling the flask alone had slowed the whole process down, but he couldn’t and wouldn’t tell her that. He wanted Belle’s first time to be sweet and painless.

A part of him, a darker part, wanted her to enjoy it.

“Will it change me?”

That question was unexpected. Of all the things he’d imagined her asking him, Gold had never considered she might worry about _changing_. Did their kind change after drinking blood for the first time? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember what he’d been like as a human.

He took her hand from his thigh, and she watched him as he brought it to his mouth to gently kiss her knuckles.

“Only if you allow it,” he answered at length.

A frown settled on her face, but he couldn’t tell if she was dissatisfied with his answer, or if she was simply thinking about it.

“Did you allow it to change you?” Belle asked.

He gripped the cup tighter. “I haven’t changed.”

She searched his face with that same odd look, and whatever she found in his eyes made her smile ruefully. She reached out to stroke his cheek, cold skin meeting cold skin, and he tilted his head into her touch.

After a moment of sitting in silence while she looked him over, Belle moved closer and took the little china cup from him.

“I’m ready,” she said quietly.

Gold straightened up and reached for the flask. He tried not to watch her too closely as he unscrewed the lid, but he couldn’t help it once the sweet scent of the lukewarm blood escaped into the room. She sucked in a breath, her eyes fixed on the flask and darkened with lust. But a different sort of lust than he was used to seeing from Belle.

Hesitating for only a moment, he put his hand under the cup to steady her trembling grip, and poured out a slow stream of the thickening blood. It wasn’t as appealing as the fresh stuff, straight from the vein, but he’d never know that looking at Belle’s face. She was transfixed, and she brought the cup to her lips the moment it was filled to the brim.

He put the flask down, waiting, and gave her an encouraging smile when she took an experimental sip. Then something in her snapped, or maybe it clicked into place. Her apprehension disappeared, and in its place was desperation. She took big gulps of the blood, tipping her head back until the cup was empty and red trailed down her chin. He wanted to kiss her. The temptation to hold her and kiss away the blood dripping down her face surged through him, and was only held back by Belle herself. She dived forward with a hiss, grabbed the flask, and drank down the rest of the blood.

Breathing heavily, Belle threw the empty flask to the side and looked at him wildly. She seemed lost, like she didn’t quite know if she wanted to cry into his shoulder or ride him, but he knew what he wanted to do. His mind was no longer addled by the first rush of fresh blood.

He reached out to her, and she closed her eyes as he swiped at the blood on her lip with the tip of his finger.

“Belle,” he said gently. She opened her eyes, and Gold held her gaze as he brought his finger to his mouth and sucked the blood from it. “How do you feel?”

Her lips parted, but all that escaped them was an unsteady sigh. She hadn’t taken her eyes away from his mouth, and when Gold licked his lips she copied him. The look on her face when she realised she’d spilled blood down her chin made him smile, and finally broke the trance between them.

He cupped her cheek and put his thumb under her chin, tilting her head back gently.

“How do you feel, Belle?” he repeated, and leaned closer.

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

“No?”

Dipping down, so close he felt her breath on his face, Gold’s tongue darted out, just to get a taste of the blood on her lips. It was cold, lifeless after being out of the body for so long, but it still sent a thrill through him just licking it from Belle’s lips.

“Better,” she said, bringing her hands up to press against his chest.

For a moment, he thought she was going to push him away, but her hands fisted in the lapels of his blazer and she pulled him close. He leaned over her, and had to put his hand on the bed so he didn’t fall forward on top of her, and Belle’s lips brushed against his in a whisper. It was the barest of touches but it was enough of an invitation for him.

Sliding his hand into her hair, cupping the back of her head, Gold pulled her into a kiss. It started as a slow kiss, with the gentle smacking of lips, but it didn’t take much for it to heat up. She nipped at him and he licked at the blood on her lip. It made her skin slick, and added a salty aftertaste to her usually sweet kisses.

She pushed against him with a hum, as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite bring herself to pull away, and nudged him backwards. He lay back, pulling her on top of him, and Belle happily straddled him as he trailed red lips down, along her jaw and down her neck. 

Two lines of blood had dropped from her chin and been caught by the soft curve of the top of her breasts. Gold lapped them up and Belle sighed, threading her fingers through his hair.

“Ephraim?”

“Hmm?”

She tugged on his hair and made him stop, just so they could look each other in the eye as she asked, “Are you mine?”

“Yes,” he breathed, gripping her hips tight. “Yours. All yours.”

The smile that crossed her face, surrounded by smears of blood and brightening her eyes, sent a dark shiver through him. She hadn’t been like this before, when she’d just drank his blood. There’d been a certain wildness to her, but where it had appeared in her desperation for more, this wildness was controlled and calculated, and hidden just under the surface.

Belle ran her hands down the front of his chest and tugged at the buttons of his waistcoat.

“You take such good care of me,” she cooed. “Let me take care of you.”

“Belle--” Any protests he had about her not having to do anything for him, he didn’t expect anything from her, died the second she silenced him with her lips.

“I know,” she said between kisses. “I want this.” She kissed his jaw and pulled at his tie. “Do you?”

Gold couldn’t think. His mind was full of nothing but Belle, where her hands ran over his chest and tugged at his clothes, and the light weight of her sitting on his hips. All he could do was nod and kiss her back.

She removed his waistcoat and shirt with quick fingers, and threw his tie to some far corner of the room. It didn’t matter where. She could rip his suit off for all he cared. He could get another suit. All that mattered was that Belle was kissing him and rocking her hips against his quickly hardening cock.

Gold smoothed his hands down her sides, over the silk of her nightie, and gripped her hip again. He guided her, pushing his hips up to meet hers.

“Belle,” he groaned as she pulled away, trying to pull her back up. “Let me do something for you.”

“You already are,” Belle teased, each word punctuated with kisses to his neck and chest. “You said you liked me wild. Untamed.” She kissed him again. “I want to see you like that.” Moving lower, she sat on his legs and unbuckled his belt. “I want to hear you come undone.”

“You already have.” He lifted his hips as she slid off the belt. “Many times.”

“With me,” she corrected, and put her hand to the hard ridge of his cock. She palmed him through his trousers, with a wicked smirk on her sweet face. “I want to hear just you.”

It took no more coaxing from Belle for him to let her undress him fully. Then she wasn’t just touching him through his trousers. She straddled him again and lifted her nightie over her head, but he didn’t have much chance to appreciate her beautiful body before she dipped down and took him in hand. 

Thoughts that he didn’t deserve it, not after what he’d done before going home to her, were hard to ignore. She was everything he wasn’t, and he’d corrupted. He should have pushed her away and apologised for what he’d done. He should have never touched her in the first place.

But Belle stopped him with kisses to his hip and stomach.

“Don’t do that,” she said gently, giving him a teasing stroke that made his hips jerk. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“Do you?”

“Mhm.” Languidly pumping his cock, Belle shifted lower and he tried not to groan when she pressed a kiss to the head. “I’m exactly where I want to be.” A second kiss and she stroked him harder. “With you at my mercy.”

He’d completely corrupted her and he suddenly found it difficult to care. All thoughts, worries, were pushed from his mind the moment she leaned forward and took him into her mouth.

She took in as much as she could, her tongue licking the underside before she gagged and had to pull back. She did it again and again until she was able to hold him in her mouth a little longer, and her cheeks hollowed as her head bobbed up.

Just the thought of Belle sucking his cock would be enough to get him off. Experiencing the real thing, Belle touching him with her mouth and hands, was almost too much. The sensations she built were suddenly joined by a sharper feeling. A spike of pleasure shot through his groin and he gasped. Belle pulled back with an obscene slurp and licked her lips.

“I’m sorry!” she said quickly, taking her hands away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bite--” She put her hand to her mouth and he sat up.

Both of them were panting, and he hoped he didn’t look as ruffled as he felt. She looked wonderful, even with wide, embarrassed eyes.

“It was just a nick,” he assured her.

“It’s just when I… It’s hard to do with fangs.”

She bit her lip, and it glistened with the evidence of what she’d been doing. Gold brushed his thumb over it, encouraging her to release it, and leaned forward to bite it for her. She tasted salty, with a faint, coppery aftertaste.

He released her with a smack of their lips and brushed the tip of his nose against hers.

“Did I kill the mood?” she whispered.

Gold winced at her choice of words, and hoped she wouldn’t notice. He brushed his hand through her hair, down the length of her chestnut curls.

“No,” he promised. “Actually, you...” He shrugged a shoulder and tried not to grin, but it didn’t work. He grinned at her, showing his matching fangs. “You made it all the more exciting.”

Smiling with relief, Belle looped her arms around his shoulders and shuffled closer.

“Should I do it again?”

“Mmm. No,” Gold said. Her smile fell and he grasped her tight, pulling her to his chest. “I want to be inside you,” he growled.

He was still aching for her, his cock pressed between her and his stomach, and the ache only grew when she leaned against him and licked her lips. He kissed her and, changed or not, he never felt more alive than when her lips were on his. Even the sweet relief of fresh blood didn't compare to the way he felt when he was with Belle.

Ending the kiss too soon, she smiled at him as if she knew how he felt, and bumped her forehead against his.

“Lie back,” she whispered.

He complied instantly, releasing her so she was sitting astride him as he settled back onto the bed covers. She looked him over, and he tried not to break under her scrutiny. The view to her couldn’t be anything special compared to the vision of her above him. Her hair slipped from her shoulders in bouncing curls as she leaned forward; her pink tongue, which had just been driving him wild, flicked across sharp teeth; her pale blue eyes drank him in from his face to his hips, as if just the sight of him was enough to turn her on.

It was a foolish fancy, he knew. She would remain young and beautiful forever, but he’d never been considered beautiful and he hadn’t been young when he’d died. Gold wondered what she truly saw when she looked at him and ran her hands over his stomach and chest.

Her hands came to rest on his shoulders and, with straightened arms, Belle rolled her hips against him. His cock was still pinned between her and his stomach, and her wet core rubbed up and down his length with the slow stroke of her hips. She gasped and keened as she pleasured herself against him, gripping his shoulders tighter and tighter. 

Gold couldn’t work out which felt better, and which was more likely to jump-start his heart and then stop it again; the sight of her taking her pleasure from him, grinding herself against him, or the feel of her cunt stroking his straining cock.

It was too much. He needed to be in her, and either the low moan she drew from him told her that, or the way he gripped her hips and thrust against her.

“Be patient,” Belle chided gently, reaching between her legs to grasp him. She gave him a teasing squeeze, a smile playing across her lips when his hips jerked up against her, and guided the blunt head to her entrance.

“Is this what you want?” she asked, brushing his cock across her folds.

He was going to die for good and he would die happy.

“Yes,” he panted, and she stopped him from pushing up into her with her hand on his stomach. “ _Belle_.”

“Patience,” she repeated, taking mercy on him.

She used her slight weight to sink down onto him slowly, taking him into her inch-by-inch until he was fully inside her and she was sucking in shallow breaths to keep control.

That didn’t last long.

Neither of them had much control left when she started moving; pushing her knees into the bed and using her hands on his stomach to lift herself up and down his length. She moaned and gasped, and her soft, slick walls working his length, mixed with her nails digging into his stomach in her passion, drew him ever closer to the release she’d started to build with her mouth. And teeth.

“Oh, fuck,” she murmured, leaning over him and struggling to keep her pace. “Ephraim.”

“Take my hands.” His voice had turned as ragged and desperate as hers, but at least he could still form a sentence.

He held his hands up and she took them, threading her fingers between his, and he pulled her down. She had only a slight weight, and he was stronger than her, but he let her use what weight she had to pin his hands down either side of his head. The new position changed the angle he pushed into her, and brought their faces closer.

She gasped at the nearness, her eyes heavy-lidded, and he snapped lightly at her parted lips.

“Better?” he teased.

Taking shallow breaths, Belle nodded and used her hands on his for balance as she continued to ride him. She moved faster, slamming down onto him harder, and he quickly lost his ability to string a sentence together. Each thrust against him, which made her gasp and moan, drew a string of nonsensical words from him.

It was messy and rough, and her needy moans encouraged him. He pushed his hips up to meet hers, and her voice grew higher as she reached for her release. She arched her back and said his name, like a desperate song that could bring her climax quicker. He tried to hold back his own, until he felt her walls tighten around him. 

Toppling over the edge, Belle squeezed his cock and held his hands so tight her nails bit into his skin. It was heaven. And, even as she fought to catch her breath, she picked up her pace and pushed him to his own release.

She collapsed against his chest as his climax hit and he poured into her. Neither of them had the energy or desire to move as they came back down. Her chest rose and fell against his, and her cold breath fanned across his neck, adding to the chill in the room.

Gold frowned. Now that they were still and quiet, he gradually became aware of their surroundings again; the cup and flask were thrown to the floor, along with his bloody clothes, the bed sheets were in disarray, and the window was still open.

Groaning, he closed his eyes and dropped his head back onto the pillow.

“What is it?” Belle asked, her face still buried against his neck.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” he said, freeing his hand from hers to stroke the back of her head. He combed his fingers through her hair, brushing it from her shoulders and his face, and she nuzzled closer to him.

He rolled them onto their sides and waited for her to fall asleep. It didn’t take long. Her breathing soon evened out, and Gold slipped away from her to get up and close the window.


End file.
